


A Very Potter Good Omens AU

by Ofwordsandroses



Category: Good Omens (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aziraphale POV, Crowley POV, Dysfunctional Family, Gabriel is a dick, Harry Potter AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, a very slow slow burn because they are morons, how do you tag, hufflepuff!aziraphale, let them be happy, like thats not been done before, not actually based of the musical btw, slytherin!crowley, story officialy starts in their third year, the golden trio is here and are vaguley caught up in their shenannigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofwordsandroses/pseuds/Ofwordsandroses
Summary: Everyone says that slytherin and hufflepuff friendships are the best. Aziraphale agrees, he just wishes Crowley would stop getting into so much trouble. Crowley has no intention of stopping causing trouble, he does however intend to stop getting caught.1st-7th year
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 158





	1. pre-potter years, first and second year

_“You’ll pay for that boy_

_This will teach you to respect your betters_

_Know your place,_

“Excuse me?”

_You’re a disappointment,_

_A mistake, a mistake, a mistake_

“Hello?”

“ _You’ll pay for that_ -

Crowley shot up with a gasp, throwing himself away from the blurred shape in front of him as he attempted to breathe. Crowley shuddered softly as he slowly came round. He was on the Hogwarts express. No overbearing family, nothing to hurt him, just his first year at Hogwarts and the stranger in his compartment who had stumbled in on him mid-nightmare. He was off to a good start. Fantastic. 

“Hello” the boy said politely, cherubic face sporting a bright smile. He must be a first year too Crowley supposed, he had blonde, almost white, fluffy hair and merry bright clear blue eyes and a kind and welcoming smile.

“I’m Aziraphale Fell, and you are?” the boy- Aziraphale questioned. Had to be a pureblood with a name like that, Crowley couldn’t wait to offend his high society sensibilities. He heaved himself up into what would be considered a normal sitting position and attempted to smile back.

“I’m Crowley, Anthony Crowley, call me by my first name and I’ll make you regret it” Crowley mildly threatened, subconsciously acknowledging that threatening people wasn’t the first step of friendship.

“Of course my dear” Aziraphale said and Crowley mentally balked at how unflappably cheerful the blonde was

“I know a thing or two about unfortunate names” he commented scrunching up his nose. Crowley latched on to the conversation starter to avoid mooning over how adorable Aziraphale was

“Thought your name was a bit ironic, Angel Fell” Crowley mused, sinking back into his seat comfortably lounging. A torn look of delight and deep rooted irritation crossed over the blondes face as he responded.

“I have to wonder what my parents were thinking choosing such a biblical name paired with our family one. Not many wizards recognise the religious influence luckily” he finished and Crowley shrugged in response. He found muggle religion quite fascinating, not that he could ever broadcast such a thing. When he was younger he used to sneak out to the muggle town near his house, looking around the libraries and music stores. It had been fun until his father found out. Crowley quirked a grin before responding. “What’s in a name, Angel?”

“My name is Aziraphale not Angel” he halted mid correction before turning his wide baby blue eyes onto Crowley

“wait you know Shakespeare!” The blonde in front of him didn’t even wait for a nod of acknowledgment before throwing himself into a fanatical rant about the playwrights’ favourite works that no normal 11 year old should have been able to enjoy.

The two continued to chatter for the duration of the train swapping stories and telling jokes. When the trolley witch came Aziraphale broke and indulged himself in enough sweets to feed a small army, Crowley allowed himself to eat a few ice mice. It wasn’t until the train finally reached Hogsmeade that Crowley realised he hadn’t put his sunglasses on, and that Aziraphale hadn’t flinched away once at the sight of his glaringly yellow snake eyes. Perhaps this is what it’s like, to have a real true friend.

Crowley stood between his fellow class mates, ignoring the questioning stares because of his glasses awaiting to be sorted. They had congregated at the front of the great hall and every few seconds Crowley would send an appreciative glance at the charmed night sky, constellations shining brightly as Aziraphale nervously shuffled beside him. Aziraphale had confessed on the train ride that he had no idea what house he may end up in. He was unwaveringly loyal but didn’t believe he was brave, he loved to gain knowledge but didn’t believe he was innovative. He had shyly confessed that even though Slytherin didn’t seem too bad, the want to chase your own goals, he feared his parents would be very disappointed as they were both very proud Gryffindor’s. Crowley had laughed at that and confessed a very similar problem, he would never get his inheritance if he was sorted into Hufflepuff after all.

“Crowley, Anthony” he grimaced at his first name, his father’s name, as he moved up to the hat. Crowley flopped onto the stool as the strict professor placed the sorting hat onto his head, the brim obscuring his view.

_Hmm let’s have a look then shall we_

Crowley tensed even though he had expected it before relaxing, letting the hat shuffle around his mind

_No, no, not Gryffindor, you tend to think before you act, not very daring- you wouldn’t like them._

Crowley heaved a sigh of relief, he knew he could be loyal or brave, he just preferred not too

_Ravenclaw is definitely out, not a studious one are you? Too bookish there…what’s this? You do show a sense of justness here young Crowley, an aptitude towards kindness- maybe hufflepuff is the place for you_

Crowley shifted uncomfortably, his sorting was one of the longest yet and he could hear people begin to murmur

_But there is a thirst to prove yourself, prove you are more than your family, you want to change things more than you admit. Quite a sneaky one aren’t you actually? Very observant when it comes to saving your own skin_

the hat continued shuffling through his memories 'I don’t think I’m very ambitious' Crowley thought 'I just want to live my life as I want too'

_And that is the reason you may be one of the most ambitious student I’ve ever sorted. Yes I know where to put you now, you belong in_

“SLYTHERIN” the hat exclaimed and Crowley wandered over to the green and silver table, sitting down near the front of the bench closest to the professors as he watched the rest of the sorting, Aziraphale standing alone until his name was called. Aziraphales’ sorting was almost as long as Crowley’s, the blonde pulling some very funny faces as he seemed to argue with the hat before finally

“HUFFLEPUFF” Aziraphale beamed before primly rising, heading towards the hufflepuff table, he looked towards Crowley across the room looking hesitant before giving him an unsure wave. Crowley smirked in response, mockingly waving back, wiggling his fingers, before the rest of the Sorting proceeded.

~

Aziraphale was, bemusedly, quite happy with how things had turned out. He had made his first friend on the train ride and the hat had decided that although he was ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted and his never ending pursuit for knowledge, his kindness and loyalty had landed him in Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin or Ravenclaw. He had even heard from his upper class-men, to his relief, that the Hogwarts library had an admirable selection of muggle books such as an Oscar Wilde collection he had regretfully left at home. Everyone always told him he was an ‘old soul’; privately Aziraphale just believed he was constantly surrounded by imbeciles. However he had arrived at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast in a rather sporting mood. This was of course naturally ruined when the mail arrived from his parents

Aziraphale,

Your cousin Gabriel has informed us that you’ve been placed in Hufflepuff, really, of all the houses, although your mother agrees it fits your foolish nature. No one really expected you too maintain our Gryffindor legacy after all, at least it’s not Slytherin, no, you know better than that. We also received other disturbing news from Gabriel that you were being friendly with that Crowley boy, obviously since he’s been placed in Slytherin we expect you’ve already cut ties, you know what that sort are like Aziraphale. Don’t fraternize any longer. Even though you’re in Hufflepuff you need to maintain the Fell legacy, don’t disgrace our name by returning to your bumbling ways after we worked so hard, don’t be soft. Just be like Gabriel and you’ll be fine.

Best wishes,

Father

Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath after he finished reading the letter, eyes stinging. Of course, not even Hogwarts could free him from the over bearing restrictions of his family. He had to please them. With a heavy heart Aziraphale pretended not to notice Crowley trying to get his attention across the hall and made his way to his first lesson blinking back tears. He couldn’t be soft.

September disappeared quickly with October hot on its heels and before Aziraphale had even noticed the leaves outside were brown, orange and crinkled on the ground. He had astronomy every Wednesday at midnight which almost had him falling asleep over his cauldron in double potions on the following Thursday. Aziraphale had been brought up in a house full of magic but he never knew what it was truly like until he had his own wand, casting spells and making potions. Hogwarts was everything he had ever dreamed about it and the old castle certainly lived up to his childhood fantasies. That wasn’t to say of course that Aziraphale was particularly good at magic. It had only been the first two months and realistically he knew he could get better but currently he found himself staring despondently at the feather on his desk. After another failed wingardium leviosa Aziraphale glared angrily at the feather before jabbing it with his wand. Aziraphale had the feeling if the feather could glare back it would. Needless to say charms was not his best subject.

Charms was not the only problem in his life though, there was another problem. An eleven year old sized shape by the name of Crowley. Ignoring Crowley was a lot harder than the hufflepuff had thought it was going to be. Not only did they share almost every class with the slyhtherin Crowley had a way of popping up when you least expected him. When Aziraphale was coming out of the library, he was there. When Aziraphale was leaving the kitchens that some older hufflepuff has shown him, he was there. The more Aziraphale tried to avoid him the more he appeared. Aziraphale had only managed to get through November before he was ungraciously pulled into a broom closet on his way back to the commons. Giving a terrified squeak he only calmed down after he realised it was Crowley who had a grip on his wrists. And then he began to panic all over again. “So Angel” the red head drawled lazily as Aziraphale tried to hide his embarrassment over the now what seemed to be permanent nickname.

“Care to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” Aziraphale tried to splutter out some excuses but Crowley was an oddly perceptive eleven year old, or maybe Aziraphale was just a dreadful liar. Crowley gave him a flat level glare and Aziraphale gave up on his excuses sighing pitifully.

“You just don’t know the trouble I’d get into if my family knew I’d been fraternising?” Aziraphale huffed

“I can’t be friends with you” Aziraphale looked away guiltily when Crowley blanched

“ _Fraternising_?”

“Whatever you wish to call it” Aziraphale spoke quickly trying to escape Crowley’s grip

“I don’t think there is any point discussing it further” Crowley let go of his hands trying to cover up his hurt expression.

“I have lots of other people to fraternise with, Angel” he spat venomously, brows furrowed. Aziraphale placed a hand on the broom cupboard handle slowly opening it to make sure no one was in the corridor.

“Of course you do” Aziraphale said moving out

“I don’t need you” Crowley’s voice echoed down the corridor and Aziraphale was tempted to turn around, run back to his very first friend and forget any argument had ever happened but Aziraphale couldn’t afford to let his family find another reason to hate him. Instead he let venomous words fall from his lips.

“The feeling is mutual. Obviously” Aziraphale was half way down the corridor when he heard Crowley’s mocking repetition and couldn’t help but smile even though he knew he had lost his first real friend.

~

The weeks past slowly after that only serving to prove that Aziraphale didn’t actually have anyone else to fraternise with. There was Agnes Nutter, a sixth year Gryffindor that Aziraphale had met in the library, though he tended to stay away from her and her oddly knowing gaze. She had a younger cousin Anathema Device who Aziraphale shared a few classes with although she wasn’t a very thrilling conversation partner as most topics seemed to always lead back to Newton Pulsifer who ‘couldn’t brew a potion for the life of him’. None of his acquaintances filled him with quite the same ease that Crowley had. One small solace was that Aziraphale was enjoying his house, everyone was very kind unlike his pressuring relatives and once when there was a thunderstorm the elder students returned with hot cocoa and marshmallows’ for all the people who were scared. Aziraphale helped his fellow students when he could as he seemed to pick up the theory very quickly, he was possibly the only person ever who made comprehensive notes in history of magic. All Helga Hufflepuff had asked from her students was kindness and that was something Aziraphale tried to give too anybody whilst also pleasing his parents.

He hadn’t been very kind to Crowley that day. Aziraphale had seen the slytherin sulking around the halls. Crowley evidently had no one to fraternise with either but with Christmas fast approaching, Aziraphale found that not even his studies and Oscar Wilde could take his mind off the maddening guilt. He had signed up to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, lying to his parents about using the professors’ resources over break. It was only when the hufflepuff commons emptied, the usual cosy circular basement abandoned, did the loneliness set in. No angry cousin Gabriel to avoid and nobody to spend time with. A couple days into winter break an unfamiliar owl landed on the hufflepuff table, looking quite pleased with itself as it stole a waffle from Aziraphale as he read the letter, more of a note really, in short jagged handwriting

Meet me at half ten on the seventh floor in front of the tapestry of that wizard teaching Trolls ballet, call it an early Christmas gift

PS- if you don’t know where that is, we’ve been here a full term come on Angel

PPS- ask a ghost if you don’t, they’re friendly enough, mustn’t be a lot of conversation when you’re dead

PPPS- Don’t worry about curfew, it’s the holidays

PPPPS- still try not to get caught

Going by the nickname the note must be from Crowley, Aziraphale could only say it was a mixture of loneliness, curiosity, and early teenage rebellion at the ripe old age of eleven that led him to stand in front of the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy at half ten that night. Aziraphale stared bemusedly at the painting until he heard the soft tap of feet coming down the corridor. Crowley smiled when he saw Aziraphale waiting for him and quickly met him in front of the tapestry. Aziraphale shuffled nervously turning to face the red head

“Crowley if we get caught-

“Relax Angel” Crowley cut him off “just two minutes of your time, that’s all I’m asking for. Then you can leave”

Aziraphale begrudgingly nodded and watched in bewildered amusement as Crowley span on his feet and began to pace, muttering to himself all the while, Aziraphale was just about to question Crowley on his apparent lack of sanity when a door suddenly appeared to grow from the wall they had previously been staring at. Crowley smiled smugly, as smug as one could look in a set of bright green flannel pyjamas, looking at Aziraphale, looking for all the world like the snake who got the canary before dropping into a half bow

“After you Angel” Aziraphale shot him look of mild disapproval but he figured the overall effect was ruined when he couldn’t stop the small smile appearing on his face. Giving in to the Slytherins’ request Aziraphale opened the mysterious door before stepping in.

The room was instantly bathed in a warm golden light, in the centre, a large sofa covered in an obnoxious amount of pillows and blankets, a leather arm chair sitting next to it in front of a giant fluffy shag rug. The surrounding walls were covered wall to wall in bookshelves, books bound in vellum, old tomes and modern practices. In between the novels various potted plants were littered across the shelves, deep vibrant green leaves and bright patterned pots adding colour in the midst of the old volumes. Aziraphale let out a shocked happy laugh as he slowly span around the room.

“Crowley what is this?”

“the elves in the kitchen call it the come and go room, it gives you almost anything you want and I supposed that if- if all that was stopping you experiencing my delightful company was if you were seen with me, having a secret room for ourselves fixes that really” Crowley muttered, trying and failing to quell the blush rising to his cheeks. Aziraphale let out a happy sigh before ungraciously throwing himself upon the sofa.

“That does fix that”

In the faux sun, they begin to giggle together; what a beautiful beginning.

They start meeting in the room three times a week – Crowleys’ dorm mates begin to get suspicious but none of them question him since they found itching powder in all of their clothes. Sneaking out after curfew is not always a simple task but the two first years had yet to have been caught. Crowley would complain about the lax security if he didn’t enjoy the lack of adult supervision so much. Any semblance of a healthy sleeping schedule went out the window. In the beginning Aziraphale had complained but by the time mid-January rolled around and the frost had melted from the Hogwarts grounds he was more concerned with throwing his charms essays at Crowley and bullying the red head into editing them. Between exchanging stories and bemoaning homework Crowley had quickly learnt that Aziraphales family life was just as dysfunctional as his own and that if ‘Cousin Gabriel’ was anywhere in the vicinity Crowley was to pretend Aziraphale didn’t even exist. The Fell family were dicks. But Aziraphale still loved them, still went out of his way to please them and if Crowley’s’ own father had never placed the final nail in the family coffin Crowley was sure he would have ended up just like Aziraphale. Idealistic and desperate for familial affection. So Crowley steered clear of the topic of family and instead offered a shoulder to cry on whenever Aziraphale got a strongly worded letter from home. 

“So you’re telling me you can just, speak to snakes” Aziraphale questioned from the other side of the sofa one night with a book in his lap that Crowley is pretty sure is older than his grandparents. It was a Friday night and the two were making use of the lie in Saturday promised them tomorrow by meeting up tonight. The fire in the room was warmer tonight, the roaring flames trying to combat the February chill that Hogwarts let in.

Crowley hissed back a yes, smug.

Undeterred by Crowley’s usual antics the blonde pressed on

“but I thought that parseltongue was an inherited ability- from Slytherin himself” Crowley shifted uncomfortably before nodding his head in an acknowledgment.

“Badly done human transfiguration can have some unseen side effects. Along with snake eyes I also have some…snakey tendencies” Crowley didn’t need to look up to feel Aziraphales dead pan stare.

“Snakey-

“I’m cold, a lot, colours can be muted and I have an unprecedented obsession with chocolate mice and” Crowley paused turning himself around so he was facing Aziraphale “I can do really weird things with my tongue” he finished with a wink, guffawing when Aziraphale spluttered face bright red. The two calmed down and the room returned to its’ quiet atmosphere.

“Who did this to you Crowley?” he asked softly, blue eyes turned on him. Crowley was quiet for a long time, gripping the pillow closer to him letting out a mournful sigh. His words so quiet that Aziraphale almost missed them.

“One of the worst monsters I have ever encountered” Crowley uttered softly steadfastly refusing to think of the man who had done this to him. Aziraphale was by Crowley’s side faster than he thought should be possible, gathering his friend- and God had Crowley always been so small- in his arms, hugging him tightly. And if Crowley’s eyes had burned and if he had clung to him tighter they didn’t mention it. And if they met up more frequently after that night, if the room no longer provided a second seat they didn’t mention that either. Some moments never truly need an explanation through words.

The rest of their first year passed by in the blink of an eye. The end of year exams were a joke and Aziraphale was confident he had passed with near on full marks for every subject, even history of magic. Crowley truly was brilliant with charms and transfiguration, easily imaging what he wanted and was a willing tutor when Aziraphale came begging for help. Even the looming despair Aziraphale felt when he thought of returning home for the summer didn’t seem that bad when he now had his first real friend to run back too. They had promised to write and try and meet in the summer holidays, too escape from their respective horrible families. The Hogwarts Express carried them further and further away from Hogwarts – from the home Aziraphale had made for himself and closer to his families clutches. But for some reason, he wasn’t scared. He had a new found hope that everything would be fine.

~

Second year, much like his first, offered Aziraphale a welcomed reprieve from his family. He loved his family and he knew deep down his family loved him – maybe not Gabriel – and he knew they only do the things they do because they think they know best. Aziraphale knows that they don’t know best but he is twelve and dependant and as such can’t argue back. But he can escape.

Hogwarts is that escape.

More specifically, Crowley is that escape.

Because Crowley doesn’t care about his fascination with muggle literature or Holy Scripture or his obsession with French pastries. Aziraphale could live a life of decadence or that of a pilgrim and he knew as long as he offered his company Crowley would be more than content to stay by his side. It was hard to imagine he had only met Crowley a year ago, he felt like he had known Crowley his entire life. Looking at it objectively Aziraphale understood why it must feel like that. He was only 12 after all. His only real first memory was from when he was four and then it was eight long years of his parents’ tyranny and long suffering looks of disappointment. The first year with Crowley contained some of the happiest moments of his life so far, it was easy to understand how attached he had become to the gangly red head with his caustic wit and soft smiles.

This didn’t mean however that there were lines he wouldn’t cross.

“No Crowley I will not do your homework for you, you should have done it long before the first day of school for merlins’ sake” Aziraphale spoke with all the righteousness of someone who had actually done his transfiguration essay only the night before but would not admit it even on his death bed. The two had only just been able to see each other, throwing themselves onto the plush sofa the room had conjured for them. Aziraphale couldn't risk meeting with Crowley on the train as Gabriel was prowling the aisle with his shiny new prefect badge just dying to get Aziraphale in trouble. Then after the welcoming feast it would have been suspicious for both of them to slip away on the first night back so they both had to struggle through a days’ worth of ‘welcome back to school’ lectures before they could finally meet.

Crowley looked over imploringly at him, shaking the bag of French pastries he had brought for the specific reason of bribery. When Aziraphale shook his head primly Crowley took out an éclair from the bag and indignantly bit into it, almost choking on the pastry when Aziraphale suddenly lunged for the bag.

Crowley really should have expected it.

~

The calm and comfort that Hogwarts offered Aziraphale lasted up until Halloween which was honestly to be expected. Crowley had a conspiracy theory (one of many) that alongside the DADA position, Halloween at Hogwarts was also cursed as every year something bad happens. Aziraphales’ life fell into a very consistent pattern whilst at Hogwarts, he attended his classes, spent his free hours in the library, had crepes for breakfast on Fridays and spent most of his time with Crowley. September has passed by quickly and the days in October had disappeared before Aziraphale could even blink. Everything was going great, that was until his actual home intruded onto the one he had built around him. He sat in the room of requirement, bundled in blankets, fighting back tears. He was a disappointment, he wasn’t good enough, he had to try harder, he had to listen to Gabriel, and he had to be _better-_

 _“_ Angel?”

Aziraphale couldn’t even bear too look up at Crowley as his eyes burned and his throat tightened and that heavy feeling constricted his lungs as Crowley took a seat next to him and pulled him closer. Crowley who had it so much worse than he did, who deserved a much better friend than Aziraphale who was stuffy and boring and _soft._

Fat ugly tears streamed down Aziraphales face as he flung himself at Crowley, clinging to the comfort his friend was offering as he sobbed into his shoulder listening to his empty words of comfort. He wished his family could love him for who he was.

~

Crowley awoke early on November 1st feeling vindictive and tired which was different than the usual feelings of being tired and depressed. He had dropped Aziraphale off in front of the hufflepuff common room after he had stopped crying already plotting a way to make Gabriel’s life a living hell. The grade A douchebag had cornered Aziraphale yesterday, as if just his presence wasn’t upsetting enough never mind him actually talking. Talking was one word for it. Crowley angrily buttoned up his shirt thinking about what the dick had said to Aziraphale yesterday before realising he had missed a button in his righteous fury and had to start again. Grabbing his glasses he strode out of the slytherin common rooms, a smirk on his lips. Slytherin had gotten their ruthless reputation from somewhere and Crowley decided that today he would exercise that famed cunning. Hogwarts was still a boarding school no matter how prestigeous it was and there was nothing more soul destroying for pubescent teens than a few horrifc rumours.

By the end of the day now he just had to make sure that Gabriel also heard the news. Crowley left dinner early, hiding in a broom closet near the Gryffindor commons and waited until Gabriel was walking past. It didn’t take long until Crowley heard the gits booming laughter from down the hall. Putting on a fake falsetto Crowley began to speak.

“Did you hear about Gabriel?” he spoke loudly, ending with a giggle and almost cheered when he heard the oaf stop near the door. Crowley quickly changed his accent. He was probably having way too much fun with the voices.

“I heard Gabriel’s got an eight pack. That he’s shredded”

Time for the finishing blow

“Well Actually I heard-

Gabriel was far too preoccupied to bother Aziraphale for the next month. He had a suspicion that Aziraphale knew what he had done but the hufflepuff never asked him about it. Being friends with Crowley had made him a very firm believer in plausible deniability.

~

Although the nights came quickly the November days seemed to drag on and on. Every Wednesday night left them freezing at the top of the astronomy tower and although charms was Crowley’s best subject that didn’t mean he was a model student. Case in point; the time that instead of setting a piece of paper on fire with the incendio charm he had accidentally set his whole desk ablaze. It was a small consolation that Flitwick had appeared more amused than disappointed. November had eventually stopped sullenly dragging its’ feet and soon enough December had arrived. Holiday spirit slowly infiltrating the dull monotony of homework and classes. The Friday night before term was set to end found Crowley and Aziraphale back in the Room of Requirement in front of the warm fire. Crowley was flipping through yet another clothing catalogue as Christmas was fast approaching and he had yet to give up on his crusade of getting Aziraphale some casual clothing. He had been despairing over Aziraphales’ wardrobe for what seemed to be forever and was determined to fix it. Apparently only old stuffy purebloods wore suits on weekends, Crowley purposely ignoring the glaringly obvious fact that they were both in fact from old stuffy pureblood families.

“Why do you insist on spending so much money on things Crowley – I can buy my own clothes you know”

Crowley aligned him with a stare that conveyed how deeply he mistrusted Aziraphales fashion sense and went back to flipping through the glossy pages of the catalogue.

“Well really its’ my father’s money that I’m spending, anything to mildly inconvenience the old bastard”

Aziraphale had long since given up on chastising Crowley on his language.

“Crowley, if I may ask” Aziraphale hesitantly began, meeting Crowley’s amber eyes “what happened to your mother?”

  
Crowley was always an active person, never still, never quiet. Aziraphale found it hard to look at the still creature that had replaced his friend. When Crowley spoke again there was a heaviness to his voice and a weariness in his eyes that was never even present when Crowley spoke about his father.

“Some things aren’t worth knowing Angel”

Aziraphale paused, before reaching over and elbowing Crowley

“Well if you wanted to waste your father’s money you could spread more festive cheer. To the professors perhaps?”

The grin that spread across Crowley’s face was terrifying but not even his pity for the professors’ could outweigh how glad he was to take away that unnatural misery that had clung to his best friend only moments ago.

~

The New Year swung around quickly and with it a new bought of luck. Pomona, bless her soul, decided that the surly slytherins needed some ‘positive influence in their lives’ and what better way to get kids happy than to force them to interact on a near daily basis on a mandatory paired project with people that they hate. Aziraphale was positive that he and Crowley were the only two who would profit from professor Sprouts decision. Having a herbology project was an adequate excuse as to why he could acknowledge his secret best friends’ existence in public. Actually, Aziraphale considered looking at the knowing gleam in the professors’ eye, their friendship may not be as secret as hoped. With an empty pot, no directions and a pair of dragon hide gloves between them they were told to ‘grow me something that could be used in a medical emergency’ for the rest of the year as it would count towards their final grade.

Aziraphale wasn’t very good with plants.

Crowley was a plant protecting fiend.

For someone who was usually very laid back (didn’t care at all) for most subjects it was an odd sights for Aziraphale to see Crowley so invested in his work, barking orders at Aziraphale and dashing from place to place in pursuit of ‘showing them how its’ really done’

“I don’t like you” Aziraphale muttered when Crowley made him shove his freshly manicured hands into the giant bag of compost. Crowley barley paused in his search for earmuffs, chucking back a very bright pink fluffy pair at Aziraphales head before responding.

“You do” he drawled.

He knew Crowley liked plants of course. They practically had a botanical garden in the room of requirement but even the mini forest Crowley was growing plant by plant paled in comparison to the fanatical devotion he showed to their herbology project.

“Grow better!” Crowley roared, shouting at the plant as he angrily cast an agumenti. Aziraphale looked on forlornly as the other students left for lunch but he didn’t dare leave until Crowley said they were done. He couldn’t wait for this project to end. The Outstanding grade they achieved when they handed in a mandrake for there project was completley worth it.

~

If anyone had thought that the winter festivities would have thawed out Snape’s icy demeanour they were wrong. If anyone thought that Valentine’s Day could have cheered the sullen surly professor they were doubly wrong. In fact by the end of February Professor Snape was quite possibly crueller than ever. But Snape wasn’t the reason Aziraphale was so angry in potions today. Snape didn’t necessarily have a seating plan but the two houses split themselves up anyway, hufflepuffs’ on one side of the potions classroom and the Slytherins’ on the other. Aziraphale was carefully stirring his potion, three stirs clockwise, one stir anti clockwise, repeat until the potion is an iridescent blue. Right now it was more of a muddy puddle but Aziraphale wouldn’t give up on it yet. Although no one really dared to speak when Snape was sweeping around the room eagerly awaiting to criticise someone until they burst into tears it didn’t mean that there wasn’t any whispering. Aziraphale was adjusting the heat of the flame in hopes of helping his potion when he heard Beelzebub whispering, just across from his desk. Beelzebub was one of the intimidating slytherins in there year, even at twelve they had taken to being a ruthless bully with their ever looming shadows of Hastur and Ligur to back them up. They were delightful. Truly. Slytherin usually displayed a unified front in the face of the other Hogwarts houses because as much as Dumbledore liked to preach about interhouse unity the only thing the four houses could agree on was a mutual loathing of Filch. Beelzebub didn’t give a damn about interhouse unity, they obviously didn’t even care about the members in Slytherin either what with the vile thing they were currently whispering to Crowley.

“Oh look is little Crowley upset? Going to run home and cry to mummy?” they taunted and Aziraphale felt the rage spread through him the longer he heard what they were saying.

“Oh wait, my mistake. You don’t have one” they finished simpering, turning back to their own almost perfect potion evidently satisfied. Aziraphale pretended to fuss over his cauldron for another minute before innocuously making his way to the storage cupboard grabbing a few ingredients that might help his potion. Some peppermint and lavender bundled in his arms he made his way back to his desk. Snape had yet to say anything about his attempts at fixing his potion which he interpreted as silent approval. He worked on his potion for another minute keeping a close eye on Beelzebub and then, when both Beelzebub and Snape were distracted he acted. Carefully he aimed for Beelzebub’s cauldron and threw in a handful of beetle eyes.

Faster than Aziraphale would have thought the potion began emitting a gaseous smog as the contents steamed and turned to a grey sludge, a rancid odour enveloping the classroom. Beelzebub let out a panicked screech as they backed away from their furiously hissing cauldron until Snape hurried over and banished the contents of the ruined potion. He levelled Beelzebub with a withering stare before sweeping away ordering everyone to turn in their potions. Aziraphale smugly bottled up his now perfect potion and pretended not to notice Crowley’s inquisitive stare.

It was a dreadful thing, what happened to Beelzebub’s potion.

Aziraphale was positive he had absolutley nothing to do with it.

~

They found themselves once more in the room of requirement, Crowley was sprawled on the sofa as if he had forgotten he had a spine and Aziraphale was pondering over what subjects he should take next year. The end of year exams began in a week but Aziraphale had discarded his history of magic revision notes in favour of picking new subjects. Crowley was adamant in taking muggle studies, if only to further infuriate his pureblood father. He had yet to choose another subject and was currently debating between ancient runes and care of magical creatures. Aziraphale had suggested that Crowley take arithmancy alongside him but Crowley had looked at him with a face of complete betrayal.

“Its’ maths, Angel” he said horrified as if basic algebra was one of the world’s greatest evils. It was a valid reaction honestly but Aziraphale enjoyed hard work and apparently endless suffering.

Aziraphale wished he could take muggle studies but for all his parents righteous Gryffindor posturing they still came from a traditional pureblood family and expected more of their ‘dithering hufflepuff son’ and as such that left him with ancient runes and arithmacy. He couldn’t bring himself to take divination as it was a by and large useless subject to take. Crowley evidently disagreed judging by the great lengths he was going too to persuade him that it was a worthwhile subject.

“Just think Angel, you’re caught in a pinch, need to make a big decision, you can solve it in a tickety boo with a swig of some tea leaves. Divine your future” he ended dramatically pretended to look into a crystal ball.

Aziraphale staunchly ignored Crowley’s mockery and petulantly crossed his arms.

“I don’t need divination to figure out your future”

Crowley’s head popped up curiously from the cushions, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes I’m afraid a terrible tragedy will befall you” Aziraphale spoke seriously.

The face Crowley made when the cushion hit his face was priceless.

~

It was odd how quickly the year at Hogwarts passed, with the end of year exams behind them and the Hogwarts express in front of them a bitter taste was left in Aziraphales mouth. Hogwarts was the only place he felt at home and even then he had to be careful, no one could know he was friends with Crowley, he’d be disowned before he could step foot through the door of his house. Normal people didn’t have to have secret friendships. Normal people weren’t burdened with the weight of an unwanted family legacy. Normal kids could send letters to their friends over summer. Aziraphale and Crowley couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair but they couldn’t do anything about it. Aziraphale shared a look with his best friend as they left the station. Another long summer awaited them both.

September couldn’t get here soon enough.


	2. A very merry third year (the philosophers stone part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley are back for their third year at Hogwarts as they attempt to hide their secret friendship. They aren't that sucessful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic gets more and more ridiculous by the day, I was writing it on Christmas is my only excuse for how festive it gets thanks for reading!!

The Hogwarts express had never looked so inviting, the red steam engine gleaming even in the muggy grey air of September and Crowley happily raced up to the train, his luggage trailing behind him. Glad to be rid of the infernal presence of his father for another year. His father who had deviated from the norm and seen him off to the station this year with a lecture on not causing trouble, not bringing disappointment to the family name (more so than he already had) and that he was to return home to celebrate yule with his nutjob death eater relatives. Little did his father know he intended to do absolutely none of the above.

Crowley tilted his head in thanks to the conductor before stepping onto the train, it was nearing 11 and the Hogwarts Express was due to set off at any minute now which meant, knowing Aziraphale, his friend had already sequestered himself away in an empty compartment with a good book. The train lurched forward and with a skill of someone who was used to not trusting public transport Crowley didn’t break his stride as he continued his search for his blonde friend. Half an hour later found Crowley leaning against a compartment door, a rare happy smile on his face as he finally located his friend, head buried into a much loved copy of Hamlet. Crowley didn't bother to spare the brain cells to question Zira’s choice of reading material and instead cleared his throat dramatically, arching an eyebrow

“Miss me, angel?”

Aziraphale, the bastard, didn’t even bother lifting his head out of his book before dryly responding

“like a cruciatas to the spine”

Crowley snorted in response and turned, casting some quick privacy charms to ensure they wouldn’t be seen before he flopped down on the seats across from the other boy. He steadfastly chose too ignore the butterflies that erupted in his stomach at Aziraphales’ usual choice of endearment. The train ride passed quickly as the two caught up on their summer, Crowley dodging questions happily listening to Azirapahle ramble about all the new books he has gotten to read and all the new pastries he had tried, the both of them ignoring the huge elephant that was the families they had both only just escaped. Crowley gazed out of the window, Hogwarts could faintly be seen in the distance and he smiled. Another year of freedom, another year back home.

Crowley stumbled into the great hall pushing his way through the crowd to take his usual seat at the end of the table. The full majesty of Hogwarts hit him again after a full summer away and Crowley found himself feeling like a first year all over again staring at the golden banquet plates and floating wax candles. The new firsties had just walked into the hall all wide eyed and full of nerves as everyone stared at the old ratty hat on the stood in front of them. It was silent until the hat twitched, opened its mouth and began to sing.

Crowley clapped politely as the hat finished its song and sorted the new students. Yet another Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor to the surprise of literally no one with Harry Potter also joining the house. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Aziraphale greet and welcome the new hufflepuff students to the table with Cedric Diggory as Dumbledore finished his seat. If one of those two didn’t become a prefect Crowley would eat his own socks. Slytherin had gained quite a lot of new students this year which was unusual, even more unusual was that at least two seemed to be muggleborns as Crowley didn’t recognise their names. Piling his plate full of food as the feast he appeared he only hoped that Adam Young and Warlock Dowling made it through the year. He thought that they would. Slytherin was a house full of survivors after all.

~

The first week at Hogwarts flew by quickly, muggle studies was fascinating even though Crowley suspected the information was quite out of date. Ancient runes was fascinating, to an extent. Crowley had an appreciation for lost history but it was a lot of work and Crowley was, at heart, a very lazy individual. Defence was a joke as always. Crowley was sure that the Weasley twins were Quirrels’ sleep paralysis demons as the man even seemed to be scared of his own shadow. The classroom constantly smelled of garlic and Crowley was convinced that Quirrel carried extra cloves with him in his turban. Apparently the defence teacher had been attacked by vampire in Romania and was traumatised for life. It made Crowley wonder why he would even bother coming back to Hogwarts to teach a subject he was scared about. Snape was as mean and surly as ever and Pomona was still intimidatingly friendly, he could see how Aziraphale was a quintessential hufflepuff. Said Hufflepuff had decided to do all his essays early Saturday morning instead of 3am Sunday night leaving Crowley to his own devices. As much as he loved Angels’ company there is no way he would voluntarily study. This left him wandering around the halls of Hogwarts until Zira stopped pretending he was a productive and they raided the kitchens for French pastries. Until then Crowley had meandered his way up to the corridor on the third floor.

Dumbledore had said that the corridor on the third floor was out of bounds if you ‘did not want to die a painful death’ the joke was actually on him because half of the student population of Hogwarts were suicidal enough to risk it. Crowley had been in this corridor for the past half hour and nothing tragic had yet to befall him. In fact Crowley would go as far as to say he had even been productive. A surprise to everyone involved (it was only him involved) he had decided to get a head start on Flitwicks charms homework and practice the permanent sticking charm, he was a model student, truly.

“And just what do you think you are doing Mr Crowley?” McGonagall’s voice echoed down the corridor, exasperation colouring her tone. She was already done with him and Crowley hadn’t even had to say anything yet. Amazing.

“I was decorating this corridor- bit gloomy isn’t it professor?”

McGonagall looked down at the sickles that Crowley had stuck down to the ground all the way through the corridor, innocently gleaming in the dim fire light. 

“I think the actual term you are looking for Mr Crowley is vandalising, you are _vandalising_ this corridor”

“Semantics professor Semantics” Crowley smiled in what he hopes was an innocent manner. McGonagall let loose a long suffering sigh and turned away, it was only the start of the year and she could already not be bothered arguing back with him.

“Detention Mr Crowley, my office tonight”

Crowley stuck one last sickle to the floor.

Later that night McGonagall had informed him he would be serving his detention in the forbidden forest with Hagrid which he thought ought to have him trembling in his leather boots but nothing could truly scare him more than Aziraphales’ ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face. Even though Aziraphale had the moral compass of a roulette wheel on a good day he was still somehow disappointed when Crowley got up to his usual bouts of mischief. He should have learnt to keep his standards lower. Apparently detention on the first week back was too much even for Crowley. Crowley was escorted to the entrance hall by Filch who was muttering behind him about whips and chains and proper punishment which Crowley thought that if it wasn’t child abuse then it was at the least a bit kinky. After exchanging greetings with Hagrid the two set off into the forbidden forest. It made perfect sense, Crowley thought ducking under the tree branches, to send him for a detention in the _forbidden_ forest when the reason for the detention was being somewhere forbidden in the first place. He and Hagrid traipsed through the forest for the better part of an hour searching for an injured unicorn. By the time Crowley returned back to his dorms he was cold and aching and covered in mud but when he heard that some fools had spent an hour trying to pry of the sickles in the out of bounds corridor he couldn’t contain his laughter. Worth It.

~

Aziraphale pulled the worn woollen blanket closer to himself, taking a long sip of his hot chocolate before turning a page of his current novel conquest, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables. He was quite a while into the novel and he had yet to read further than the man’s rambling about sewers. Crowley was curled up on the corner of the sofa, feet covered in obnoxiously bright green fluffy slipper socks and was lazily staring into the fire, roaring flames reflected in his amber eyes. It wasn’t often Aziraphale got to see Crowley without his sunglasses on, the other boy never really removing them when he was out in public. Crowley’s eyes were an intense shade of amber, startling wide and hard to look away from. He understood why the slytherin preferred to keep them covered but Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel it was a shame that he didn’t get to see those startlingly brilliant eyes more often.

“Say Angel” Crowley began, stretching out on the sofa, the monstrosity which he called a pair of socks almost smacking Aziraphale in the face.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we became amimagi?

Aziraphale levelled Crowley with a stare over the top of his book

“I bet you’d be a swan, you are a vicious bastard”

Crowley was of course referencing the time when he shot a tripping jinx at a very horrible Gryffindor bully when he was at the top of a very high staircase. Nobody was hurt. Sadly.

Aziraphale continued to glare at Crowley, trying to shove as much disapproval as he physically could into one look.

“Crowley, we are not becoming illegal animagi” Aziraphale spoke, becoming increasingly nervous when a shit eating grin spread across Crowley’s face.

“Repeat after me. We are not becoming illegal animagi”

When Crowley petulantly repeated after him Aziraphale smiled down into his book, thinking to himself that he had safely dodged another bullet. None of this would happen if McGonagall didn’t constantly show off in her welcome back transfiguration lessons and stopped startling unsuspecting students by shifting forms constantly. Crowley heaved a sigh before pushing himself up from the sofa, checking up on the various plants he had left potted around the room with exaggerated sternness. 

“You know you are free to take any books you wish to read Crowley dear” Aziraphale spoke, flipping another page of his book.

“I’m not reading Oscar Wilde Angel. I refuse to be converted to your book loving ways”

Aziraphale snorted before looking up

“There is one book series you might like here, Ian Fleming’s works” he continued as Crowley made his way over to where he gestured. He picked up the novel, reading the blurb before shrugging and collapsing back on the sofa.

By the end of the week Crowley had read the entire series

~ 

October flew by quickly between classes and homework, and safely meeting up with Crowley behind his cousin Gabriel’s back. He couldn’t wait for the day when Gabriel finally left Hogwarts and there was no one here to spy on him and report every mistake back to his parents. The two of them had decided to skip the Halloween feast this year were usually Crowley would sit grumpily at the end of his table and Aziraphale would pretend not to glance at him across the hall every five minutes. Instead they had grabbed some food from the kitchens, the worst kept secret in Hogwarts, and headed to the come and go room to celebrate the night together. Aziraphale had just practically force fed Crowley some oysters to stop his ramblings on his various conspiracy theories. Unfortunatley the silence didn’t last long.

“It’s Halloween Angel, something spooky has got to happen” he spoke as Aziraphale shook his head.

“I don’t like spooky”

“I love spooky. Big spooky fan, me” Crowley responded sagely as if he still wasn’t scared of the bloody baron to this day. Aziraphale was about to carry on the argument by saying just that when the ceiling lights above them turned a dark red, bathing the room in the deep colour. How ominous.

“Crowley” Aziraphale began standing up from the sofa and pulling his cloak around him. “What is this?” Crowley had also jumped up and was heading towards the exit that had appeared for them responding

“I asked the room to let us know if there was ever an emergency that would require us to leave when I first set it up. The red light means we’ve got to go. Scram. Skedaddle.” he paused before smiling like a lunatic “one could even say it means there’s something spooky going on”

Aziraphale barely contained the urge to smack him.

The two stumbled out of the door, the draughty Hogwarts castle seemed to be colder around them after they had just left the cosy warmth of the crackling fire in the room of requirement. They had only just made it to the second floor when the vague shape of professor sprout came charging down the corridor, coming to a stop in front of the pair.

“What are you boys doing here? Weren’t you at the feast? A Troll has broken in to the castle”

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure as to why she didn’t lead with the fact that a Troll had broken into Hogwarts but cold fear soon gripped him when he realised his head of house was about to realise just where he spent all of his time.

“We’re terribly sorry that we missed the feast professor but you see I was-

“Being bullied!” Crowley exclaimed, quickly slinging his arm across Aziraphales shoulders in what he hoped looked like a threatening manner.

“Bullied?” Sprout questioned doubtfully looking between the two teens in front of her.

“Yes, bullied!” Aziraphale nodded eagerly, perhaps too eagerly for someone who was meant to be being bullied. Rearranging his features into a frown he continued “you see Crowley is awfully mean-

"I'm a terror, really" Crowley interrupted sardonically, Aziraphale shot him a glare before continuing.

"-and he wouldn’t let me go to the feast to deprive me of my favourite French pastries"

"I’m a monster"

"And he was going to take me to the forbidden third floor and throw me in-"

“I’m ruthless”

“And that’s how we ended up here”

Professor sprout looked between the two before exhaling what could be a laugh or what also could have been a sigh of despair before turning around, heading back down the corridor.

“Well I shall make sure you arrive back at your common rooms safely, with no detours to the third floor corridor” 

Aziraphale exchanged a look with Crowley, shoulders slumping in relief. It seems they had gotten away with it.

~

Aziraphale may have thought he had quelled Crowley’s ambitions to become an animagus. But the blonde had only promised that they both would not become animagi, not that Crowley couldn’t embark on his transfiguration quest alone. Mostly everyone in Slytherin had retreated to bed, it was only the hopeless and desperate who were awake at this hour completing assignments due in the next day. No one really cared who left the Slytherin common room as long as you didn’t get caught. Crowley had absolutely no intentions of being caught. He threw a winter cloak over his shoulders before leaving the common room in his pyjamas and knee high boots.

It was the coldest November yet and frost was already covering the quiddith pitch, the black lake almost frozen over and it wasn’t even December yet. But, Crowley sighed pulling his cloak tighter around himself, needs must and if one of those needs was too steal from Sprouts private stores than he must do it stealthily. Crowley was rather hesitant to say that he was breaking in to Sprouts private stores as the bubbly professor didn’t actually lock the greenhouse. He just sauntered through the door and admired the vegetation, nothing wrong with that. No the only thing wrong was the theft. Crowley couldn’t excuse that but he could make sure it wasn’t noticed. He only grabbed two mandrake leaves from near the back. It would be suspicious if anymore went missing so Crowley couldn’t afford to make many mistakes. Luckily he had already thought of a solution to not accidentally swallowing or spitting out the mandrake leaf for an entire month and had cleverly used a non permanent sticking charm to stick the leaf to the roof of his mouth the next morning. His satisfaction at achieving the first step made navigating the mind field of breakfast foods with a disgusting tasting leaf in his mouth worth it. Now he just had to gather the rest of the ingredients. It seemed like another detention in the forbidden forest was called for.

~

Aziraphale didn’t know why he was so upset really. He never actually enjoyed going home to his family over the Christmas holidays. In fact he spent most of his time sitting with his family wishing he was with Crowley at Hogwarts and now that he was actually spending his Christmas with Crowley he couldn’t help but feel upset. His parents had asked him not to return home this year. It was the Fells’ turn to host the annual yule ball this year out of his family and his parents didn’t want him embarrassing them and asked him to stay at Hogwarts. The joke was on them because Aziraphale didn’t want to spend Christmas with them anyway but he couldn’t stop the pang of sadness that followed when his family tossed him to the side. Azirphale had resigned himself to a night of wallowing in his own self pity when Crowley burst through the door bounding across the room. Aziraphale peered over his melancholy cushion cave as Crowley came to a halt in the middle of the room.

“Now Angel” he began, reaching into his pockets and throwing something to the ground “I think its’ about time we turned this forlorn look into something more festive” he said casting an unshrinking charm at whatever was on the floor. Aziraphale watched as Crowley quickly leaped out of the way and in his place grew a massive 12 foot Christmas tree.

“Crowley” Aziraphale laughed before a horrible thought occurred to him “where did you get that tree?”

Crowley continued to smile.

“Where did you get the tree” he demanded more insistent. When Crowley refused to answer he sighed standing up before clapping his hands together conjuring boxes upon boxes of Christmas decorations.

The pair of them took a step back from the finished tree, admiring it. The tree had clearly been decorated by two people. Crowley had aimed for elegance, fairy lights and white icicles wrapped around the branches. Aziraphale however had picked the most garish ornaments he could see and threw them onto the tree. The end result was something akin to an arts and crafts store gone wrong. But it was theirs.

Even if it was stolen.

Aziraphale sighed happily turning to look at Crowley who was scrutinising the crooked star at the top of the tree. The tree that Crowley had stolen just to cheer him up.

“you know Crowley, I’ve always said, you’re actually quite nice” Aziraphale had only just said when Crowley turned on him, shoving him out the way. Aziraphale stumbled back in surprise as Crowley began shouting

“I’m not nice” he spat venomously “nice is a four letter word that will get you _killed. I’m. Not. Nice”_

Aziraphale tried to reach out but Crowley pushed his arm away before storming out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

It seemed Aziraphale couldn’t do anything right for anybody.

What a merry Christmas.

~

It had been a week since his argument with Aziraphale. He hadn’t meant to flip out at the hufflepuff but he honestly didn’t want to face Zira after his freak out so he decdied avoidance was the best tactic for all involved.

God forbid he actually talk about his feelings.

Crowley smiled to himself as he quietly made his way across the Hogwarts grounds, it was a cold night and he had cast a warming charm in advance so he could appreciate the snow falling around him, the white flakes drifting slowly through the December air. Christmas was around the corner and Crowley was out present hunting. He was like Santa, if Santa was real, had magic and indulged in the occasional bit of thievery. He had already sorted Aziraphales gift, he was a pretentious bastard which made him very easy to buy for considering money was of no object to Crowley. No, he was upholding his tradition of spreading a bit of Christmas cheer around the castle. Christmas had always been miserable for Crowley, his father was scum who had murdered his mother and he was usually expected to pull crackers with his crack pot death eater relatives. He received no gifts, no happiness. No family.

So Crowley spread Christmas cheer to the most miserable inhabitants of Hogwarts.

The professors.

He was pretty sure they knew that it was him, but they also knew that he would never admit to knowing that so they left him to his own devises. Flitwick certainly didn’t complain about the expensive quill set he receive last year and the dog toys he gifted Hagrid were always appreciated. He wasn’t being nice, he had yet to find a self-serving justification for his Christmas Crusade but he wasn’t being nice. So far he had gotten some new dragon hide gloves for Pomona (he was on a first name basis with the hufflepuff head of house because she knew Crowley loved plants and she was intimidatingly friendly) He had gotten Flitwick a rare charms text that he knew for a fact wasn’t in the Hogwarts library as even Zira’ had been unable to find it. Snape will soon receive a beautifully carved cauldron that monitors its own temperature, Hagrid his usual fair of dog treats for Fang and of course Dumbledore would get his usual amount of fluffy socks.

He was out here tonight to get his gift for dear old Minnie, and to get a few things for himself. He was nothing but opportunistic. He slipped past the Greenhouse wards with ease and opened up the brown sack on his back, an instrumental part to, what Aziraphale had dubbed, the plant protection programme. There hadn’t been any wards surrounding the greenhouse before, Crowley was sure of it. Sprout must have realised how many students broke in at night. Crowley began grabbing seeds of more mundane plants to decorate his dorm with and made sure to edge his way carefully around the devils snare until he reached what he was finally after. A gift to McGonagall. A Catnip plant. Crowley was just lifting up the pot carefully when he heard an exasperated sigh from behind him.

“What exactly are you doing Mr Crowley” she questioned.

It did not sound like a question.

Pomona stood at the entrance, a lumos lighting up her hastily thrown on robes and bunny slippers and an expression of exasperated fondness on her face. Crowley looked towards her and then to the disgruntled (could catnip look disgruntled?) catnip in his hand before he resumed stuffing it into his Santa’s sack/plant protection bag slinging it over his shoulder.

“Oh you know me professor” Crowley spoke with exaggerated dramatics as he made his way out the door “I am an evil slytherin” he pronounced “indulging in my nefarious ways” he paused by the door inclining his head slightly.

“Have a nice night professor”

And then he merrily made his way back to the castle through the snow, smiling as he heard Pomona’s’ mystified laughter.

Christmas rolled around quickly after that, unlike most years the school wasn’t as deserted which was odd so the usual small table hadn’t been put up. He and Aziraphale were still not speaking because they were both too stubborn and Crowley was too proud to make the first move. At least for now. This led to Crowley wondering around the halls most days, brooding. He was given a reprieve from brooding, broodingly, when the beginnings of Christmas Morning slowly took over the Slytherin Common room. Even surlier Slytherins who stayed behind like Beelzebub, Hastur and Ligur seemed to take a break from being complete dicks and actually feel a modicum of happiness. Aziraphale had given him a set of plant sprays containing different potions for growth, health and ‘luxurious shiny leaves’ with a passive aggressive note hinting now maybe Crowley can stop shouting at them. His father on the other hand had skipped the passive and headed straight towards the aggressive. Crowley had ruined family Christmas by being a disobedient child. He got this letter every year. It no longer affected him.

Crowley wasn’t enough of a bastard that he hadn’t sent a present to Aziraphale. He had bought a complete collection of Shakesepares’ plays. Neither of them had said sorry, they didn’t have to too understand that everything was put behind them

Crowley left the Slytherin commons when the time for the Feast rolled around, shades perched on his nose, and took his self-proclaimed spot at the end of the table closest to the staff and slowly began filing up his plate. Dinner passed by slowly, main course turning into desserts and the professors’ pumpkin juice becoming more and more alcoholic.

“I’m telling you Pomona! Just like the last year, A Christmas present sat on my desk!” Flitwick cried, arms flailing wildly. Crowley had listened in on the conversation with a careful ear. The professors Christmas Conspiracy was the most entertaining thing when Crowley stayed behind for the holidays. Every year the teachers got a gift, sans the defence position and every year a new professor worked out who was giving it to them, Dumbledore and Snape knew at least. Dumbledore was an omniscient sock loving hooligan and Snape had caught him last year (he still had nightmares about it)

“What was your gift this year Minerva?” Snape inquired, discreetly looking to Crowley who pretended to be very invested in building a marshmallow fortress on top of his mug of hot chocolate.

“Catnip” McGonagall dead panned, looking indignant when the rest of the staff burst out laughing although the stern professor couldn’t hide her smile. Pomona’s head snapped up towards Crowley, purposely projecting her voice.

“I wonder who it could be”

Crowley gave a cheeky grin, lowered his glasses and winked before leaving the hall.

A very merry Christmas indeed.


	3. a very merry third year (the philosophers stone part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry saves the philosophers stone from Voldermort, that doesn't actaully have any impact on Aziraphale and Crowley at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter tonight! but plot can be seen in the distance and it is fast approaching

He decided to take the long way round to the room of requirement tonight, it was New Years Eve and Crowley had promised to spend it with Aziraphale. Crowley didn’t put much stock into new year’s eve. Aziraphale thought it was a time of new beginnings, Crowley thought it was bullshit but he was willing to celebrate a new year of bullshit together. Crowley rounded another corner, his lumos faintly lighting the way as he shuffled down the corridor. Curfew was technically non-existent during breaks but he didn’t really want to explain what he was up to too any overly inquisitive professors.

Crowley stopped when he noticed a door was faintly ajar. He had always assumed that most of the doors in the old corridors led to abandoned classrooms with nothing in them but creaky desks and dusty blackboards. If this door actually led to abandoned classroom there would be no reason for it to be open. Looking down the corridor to make sure he was alone he slowly pushed the door open.

It was an abandoned classroom in almost every respect. The desks were covered in layers of dust and the room had clearly seen better days but what captured Crowley’s attention was the large ornate silver mirror in the centre of the room. Crowley walked further forward to study the inscription at the top of the frame.

‘ _erised_ _stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi’_

Crowley puzzled over the inscription for a while before moving to look at his reflection, frowning in confusion.

His reflection wasn’t wearing glasses.

He was always wearing glasses.

The Crowley in the mirror was grinning happily, clearly content. Mirror Crowley wasn’t perfect, their eyes were the same and Crowley could see the bundle of layers they were wearing to keep out the slightest bit of cold. But they seemed happy. Accepted.

Crowley turned to glare up at the inscription again wishing he could piece it together when it hit him.

I show not your face but your heart’s desire.

Crowley turned and glared at the mirror. He didn’t have to waste away in front of the mirror hoping for his heart’s desire. He could go and return to Aziraphale and be happy and accepted there. When Crowley had finally made it to the seventh floor Aziraphale was already there, sprawled out on a large blanket that had replaced their usual combination of a sofa and a rug. When Aziraphale saw Crowley come in he patted the blanket next to him before explaining

“In the muggle world, they celebrate the New Year by releasing fireworks, I saw some from my window once. The room an do a- light projection of sorts- to replicate it, and now we don’t have to freeze outside”

Crowley smiled, lying down next to him.

“Sounds brilliant, Angel”

With ten minutes of the year left and thoughts of the mirror of erised still plaguing his mind Crowley turned towards Aziraphale who was adorably gazing at the night sky above him.

“Say, Angel” Crowley said only continuing when he got a vague hum of acknowledgment from Aziraphale. “Do you ever think about what you’d like to do after Hogwarts?”

Aziraphale went quiet for a long moment and Crowley shuffled uneasily beside him.

“I think it would be rather nice to open up my own bookstore” he said contemplatively. Crowley snorted softly beside him

“You wouldn’t want to sell any of the books” Crowley retorted. Aziraphale laughed softly, nodding his head in acknowledgment

“That’s why you’d become a herbologist and sell plants, we’ll use your money to keep us going. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Crowley felt himself still, a hot blush rising up on his cheeks.

“Yeah. That would be nice” he spoke as the fireworks lit up the sky above them

“Happy new year Crowley” Aziraphale said softly.

“Happy new year Angel”

Maybe this whole tradition thing wasn’t bullshit after all.

~

The break had only just finished and Crowley was already eagerly awaiting for the next one. Snape and McGonagall were as ruthless as ever with their never ending siege of assignments and theory even though it was only the first week back. Thankfully history of magic and DADA practically classed as free periods these days and Crowley completed most of his essays in class to avoid them eating into his valuable free time. The only good thing that had come from returning to Hogwarts was the new topic they had started in muggle studies. Muggle music.

He knew some of the ingenious things muggles had invented, he was a pureblood not a hermit and when reading the James Bond books Angel had given him he found references to even more inventive things. Like cars, guns and some odd thing called electricity. But out of all these discoveries his favourite had to be muggle music. Muggles had loads of music, Crowley didn’t much care for the disco and reggae music the professor had been determined to play for half the lesson but there was more than that. Muggles had bands just like the weird sisters just with odder names. The sex pistols, the velvet underground and his newest obsession, Queen. Their teacher, a bright bubbly woman who believed that learning was less about exams and more about understanding the culture had delightfully spent a full lesson playing an eclectic pile of music through the gramophone using muggle records. This is why she was Crowley’s favourite teacher. The best part of all of this was that the gramophone worked perfectly fine without weird muggle electricity so Crowley could listen to Queen whenever he wanted. He just required a gramophone. Good job he knew a room for that.

The room of requirement knew exactly what he needed and he had found an old gramophone in what he and Aziraphale had named the junk room. It was an over glorified lost and found full of broken stuff at best and cursed stuff at worst, the gramophone at least was in working condition. Crowley had just placed a velvet underground album underneath the needle when Aziraphale walked into the room, joining Crowley in staring at the spinning record as the music filled the room around them,

“Ah, bebop” Aziraphale spoke in false acknowledgment.

Crowley stared at him.

“You know, if you lined up everyone in the whole world and asked them to describe the Velvet Underground, nobody, at all, would say bebop” he said disgruntled. Aziraphale waved his comment off before turning to rummage through the pile of records he had amassed.

“Do you have any Sondheim?”

Crowley sighed despairingly before joining Aziraphale in sorting the pile of records the room had given to them.

~

It was Hogsmeade weekend. Everyone loved Hogsmeade weekends, honeydukes chocolate and butterbeer were a rare treat and being able to leave the castle was a novelty no one got tired of. Of course that might be different if Aziraphale wasn’t going alone. Its’ not as though Aziraphale didn’t have friends, he knew plenty of people but he didn’t know anybody well enough to impose himself on their outing. The only person he would enjoy his day with was Crowley and the second Gabriel discovered he had been consorting with slytherin would-be death eaters he’d be proclaimed a dark wizard and a disgrace to the family.

Disownment wasn’t quite worth grabbing a butterbeer with his friend.

Aziraphale tightened the hufflepuff scarf around his neck as he stepped of the carriage, the February cold chilling him through his bundle of scarf, cloak and sweater. The village was busy, as it always was, swarms of students raiding honeydukes and zonkos, a congregation of ravenclaws strode into a bookshop as if they were storming the bastille. Aziraphale smiled brightly before throwing himself into the fray. Maybe he could sneak back some butterbeer to enjoy with Crowley later on.

Ladened down with bags Aziraphale quickly cast a tempus charm and found it was nearing five, the dark night sky slowly enveloping the village around them as Aziraphale stepped into the carriage before him. He had been out here nearly four hours now, buying things for himself but also completing his own little errand list. As the younger years weren’t allowed in hogsmeade the hufflepuff house had founded – well it was Aziraphale’s idea really- that the older students could go out and pick up the items they had requested. Most times it was innocuous things like extra quills or more ink and parchment, easy to carry items. Cedric, who was meant to be the other ‘helper’ in his year had fallen ill today and not wanting to disappoint any of the first years Aziraphale had taken on the task of the others boys list as well. It had seemed like a good idea until Aziraphale found himself struggling to carry all of his bags down the long empty corridor leading to the hufflepuff commons.

“Are you a wizard or not Angel?”

Aziraphale jumped when he heard Crowley’s voice, dropping half of the bags on the floor in his shock whipping around to glare at Crowley.

Crowley had pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on (in an effort to make himself look cool, Aziraphale desperately tried to ignore the fact that it was working) and with a swish and flick had levitated the thirteen bags Aziraphale had previously been attempting to carry. Refusing to let himself be embarrassed or to add to the smug satisfaction practically dripping out of Crowley’s pores Aziraphale simply nodded in thanks in his direction continuing to stride down the corridor, Crowley and the bags following.

“What are all these bags for anyway Angel? Anything for me?” Crowley inquired teasingly, rustling one of the bags beside him. Aziraphale snorted grabbing some of the bags back from the fiend beside him.

“They're mostly for the younger years who can’t yet go to Hogsmeade to pick up their own supplies”

Crowley let out a disgusted sigh from beside him carrying on with himself dramatically

“Aren’t you tired of being nice?”

It was surprising how much contempt one person could place in a monosyllabic word.

“Don’t you just want too–

“If I stopped being nice I’m hitting you first”

And with that Aziraphale took the remaining bags of Crowley and sticking his tongue out childishly disappeared into the hufflepuff common room. Blushing at the sound of Crowley’s melodic laughter echoing behind him.

Hogsmeade weekends weren’t _so_ bad after all.

~

Aziraphale had been wandering around the corridors in attempts to find Crowley. The red head was supposed to meet with him in the RoR almost an hour ago and had yet to arrive. With nothing better to do Aziraphale had taken it upon himself to track down the Slytherin in hopes of alleviating the boredom that had taken over him. It was a Saturday morning, not quite yet afternoon, and most of the student population were still in bed. Even though Aziraphale knew Crowley loved sleep he also knew that he couldn’t stand his dorm mates and as such was out as much as possible on weekends. Aziraphale had just finished checking around the divination classroom and Merlin the incense from the classroom even strangled the air in the surrounding corridor. The stairs he had been walking down suddenly decided that they wanted to go somewhere else. Aziraphale grabbed onto the bannister continuing to walk down the wooden steps, his adventure would continue.

Aziraphale was just about to give up on the floor that he as on when he heard a soft hissing from around the corner. He stood there listening curiously till he heard the sound of what could only be Crowley’s laughter. Hurriedly turning the corner he watched in mild interest as Crowley and what appeared to be the painting of some sort of cobra conversing across the hall.

The hissing sounds were oddly soothing, the soft sibilance was interrupted by what could only be described as a laugh. At least Aziraphale thought it was a laugh, as close as a choked hissing sound could sound like a laugh and Aziraphale found himself interrupting the conversation between them.

“Crowley? We were meant to meet an hour ago”

Crowley laughed as he turned to Aziraphale, dark glasses safely tucked away in his pocket.

“Sorry Angel, got caught up in conversation” Crowley nodded his head in the direction of the portrait “She’s a bit offended that I don’t know a lot about basket weaving but she’s a great conversationalist” Crowley finished with a smirk

“You’ve been standing here gossiping to a snake portrait for he passed hour?”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly “we’re all gossipy bitches sometimes”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop the ringing laugh that escaped him.

~

"What have you done?" Aziraphale said immediately upon seeing Crowley

"What do you mean what have I done?"

"You’ve got that look in your eyes the 'I’ve done something I wasn’t supposed to and I'm about to tell you so you don’t even have plausible deniability"

"That’s an oddly specific look" Crowley retorted petulantly

"You’re an oddly specific problem" the two stood at a silence impasse for a few moments before Aziraphale spoke again

“Just tell me what you did” he demanded with a bone deep weariness seemingly having aged another ten years in front of his eyes. Crowley decided to spare his usual bullshit theatrics and come clean straight away.

“There was a storm last night” he began and Aziraphale immediately pursed his lips and in that moment looked unnervingly and scarily like McGonagall.

Crowley sighed before closing his eyes and concentrating, feeling his magic flow through him and then he started to shift. Where Crowley once stood now lay a beautiful snake with black shimmering scales and a bright red underbelly. The snake stayed still for a few moments before hissing up at Aziraphale when he suddenly shifted back into Crowley. Aziraphale stood in silence radiating anger but underneath the fake moral integrity he was reluctantly impressed.

“To be fair this way _your_ idea” Crowley tried to defend himself as Aziraphale cut him of

“I, in no way, told you to do this!” he exploded, angrily ranting for the next ten minutes. Crowley stood through his lecture with a bemused smile on his face and when Aziraphale eventually ran out of steam they spent the rest of the night researching everything they could about the red bellied black snake.

Crowley smiled, all in all he thought he thought he had been pretty successful.

~

Getting to the room of requirement was usually laughably easy. But nothing could go right for so long and now Crowley was rushing down the corridor in his snake form to avoid being spotted by Filch. The floor was cold. He thought he could hear Mrs Norris. All he wanted was a peaceful night.

Harry was making slow progress down the corridor, Norbert was oddly quiet in his crate as Hermione slowly shuffled forward behind him, the invisibility cloak covering their slow moving forms.

Harry almost stilled when he heard a soft hissing from down the corridor

_shit, shit, shit, shit_

The hissed cussing grew steadily louder as the form of a snake grew closer to where Harry was standing, dark scales almost blending in to the shadows of the corridor.

_Shit Shit ShIT SHIT_

The swearing grew louder as the snake passed quickly rounding the corner.

Harry shrugged to himself and carried on moving towards the astronomy tower. He had too much to deal with Hagrids stowaway dragon, swearing mystical snakes was a problem for another day.

~

Aziraphale had no idea where his remaining months at Hogwarts had disappeared too, March had come and gone bringing rain and misery with it and April had not alleviated any of his melancholy. Easter Break didn’t offer any reprieve and instead Aziraphale found himself buried under veritable mountains of exam preparation whilst Crowley pretended that he didn’t study and passed his exams miraculously. Although no one took the end of year exams seriously the fear of failure was a giant motivator.

No one actually gave a damn about exams at the end of this year, the rumour mill was working overtime and there was more exciting news to be spread about than who started crying over a tap dancing pineapple. Apparently Voldemort had broken into the castle and was yet again defeated by an eleven year old Harry Potter and his two best mates. It sounded ridiculous but almost everything in Aziraphale’s life was ridiculous and so he took pretty much all things with a pinch of salt. He was a wizard who went to a mystical boarding school in Scotland and his secret best friend could illegally turn himself into a venomous snake.

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley across the hall as Dumbledore finished his closing speech. Next year would be even better than this one. He just had to make it through the summer first.


	4. enemies of the heir (chamber of secrets)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Hogwarts is all fun and games till someone gets murdered (petrified, a cat gets petrified)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can have a little chapter. As a treat.  
> My college exams fucked me sideways with a chainsaw but I feel like I owe it to myself to keep posting this fic so. Here we are. Thanks for reading!!!

Dear Angel,

The manors as empty as always, father's constantly at the ministry and spends most of his days bribing and blackmailing his way through to Fudges’ pockets. Most days it’s just me and a few unhappy house elves. It’s only the second week back and my boredoms already driven me to the library, we have thousands of illegal dark magic books but not a single one on muggles, thought I could try mixing magic with muggle technology like we did with the gramophone but I suppose that will have to wait till I return to Hogwarts.

No I’ve not done my homework yet, you know I will not have done my homework yet, you know that on the first day back I will be copying your homework. It's not cheating if no one gets caught. However between not doing homework and avoiding father I did manage to find the charm that make howlers. I imagine that will come in useful sometime soon.

I miss the snake portraits at Hogwarts, I wish I was allowed a pet snake, their conversation skills aren’t the best but at least I’d have someone to speak too whilst fathers away, ~~the house has always felt so empty after mother died~~

Do your homework angel.

Yours,

Crowley

Dear Crowley,

My summer breaks been quiet giving me ample time to complete my homework (which you will not be copying) As you know we live in our ancestral manor but most of the family has moved out now, Raphael is a private healer and Sandalaphon has secured a job in the department of mysteries. I am happy for them ~~even if now I have to try even harder to please my parents.~~ Gabriel has moved back in with his parents leaving me alone with mine. Father is working long hours, the auror department are currently swamped and mother is out most days gossiping with her high society friends. ~~Thankfully~~ I’ve not seen them a lot.

It feels strange to think we’re going into our fourth year already, the time really has flown by hasn’t it Crowley? I’ve heard from other students that the OWL preparation starts this year which is an exciting challenge although I know you disagree.

I do hope you are never given the opportunity to send a howler to someone, I imagine it would be traumatising for all involved, hoping your summer gets better, ~~I miss you~~

Yours,

Aziraphale

Dear Angel,

Stealing those records and the gramophone was a blessing, no matter what you say. Only thing that’s kept me sane in these past couple of weeks. Stored them in my room with those odd muggle books, father never comes in my room they should be safe. If he ever does find them assume I’m ~~dead~~ grounded.

Almost September now, your Hogwarts list came right? I heard that the author bloke, Gilderoy, is going to be our new DADA teacher - can’t be worse than having a teacher whose possessed by the Dark Lord, at least I hope so, if nothing else he doesn’t strike me as a man who loves garlic even if he is a moron. I have trouble believing any of the things he wrote and I can’t believe I wasted my time reading them.

Wish we could meet up in diagon but we both know you’d be flayed alive and I probably wouldn’t even get the courtesy of a marked grave. ~~Miss you too~~

Yours,

Crowley

Dear Crowley,

I also share doubts about the competency of our new defence against the dark arts professor, he does seem quite full of himself doesn’t he?

Don’t expect me to approve of you stealing property (it’s still property even if it is in the lost and found) but I am glad you found a normal outlet for your boredom and have not resorted to explosives.

Last year was particularly eventful wasn’t it? I vaguely mentioned Quirrel leaving but neither of my parents seemed overly worried or aware of the full story, I kept it that way. If Headmaster Dumbledore feels the need to keep this information covered I’m sure he has a reason. I fear I’d be causing more problems than I would solve if I ran my mouth.

If I don’t hear from you again (I know Lysander becomes tired when he has to fly such distances) we shall meet second night back in the ROR okay?

Yours,

Aziraphale

Crowley wished he could reply to his friends' letter but his father was now watching his mail, he suspected he was consorting with muggle filth. He had entered Crowley’s room no doubt coming to shout at him for some inane reason and had stumbled upon his vinyl collection of muggle music. Crowley struggled with muscle spasms for days, after effects of the cruciatas. His father wouldn’t tolerate failure. No wonder his mother wanted to get out of this house.

Too bad he never let her.

~

It was nice to be back at Hogwarts after a summer away, Aziraphale had clapped happily for every new student that had been sorted, there had only been four new hufflepuffs this year but they seemed to have settled in quickly becoming friends as they excitedly chattered and laughed. The welcoming feast had been as loud and rambunctious as always and Aziraphale swore the younger students were getting smaller and smaller every year. The sorting passed quickly, the newest Weasley was placed in Gryffindor with her brothers although notably Ron Weasley was absent from the table along with Harry Potter. Aziraphale shrugged to himself and took another eclair for good measure. They would find out in the morning. 

Aziraphale stood from the table as the feast ended directing the first years towards the prefects who would take them to the common room. The Hufflepuff password never changed, simply rapping Hel-Ga Huff-Le-Puff onto the wooden barrels let you into their common room and it was always fun to see those from other houses get doused in vinegar when they guessed the wrong password. The Hufflepuff commons were warm and inviting, giant cushions and mismatched blankets were flung haphazardly over armchairs and sofas and the warm colours always made him feel at home. He greeted his dorm-mates before throwing himself onto his bed, burrowing in the warm yellow covers. It was nice to be back. 

They did find out what happened in the morning in the form of a howler sent by Mrs Weasley, even those farthest away from the Gryffindor table felt their cutlery rattle as the Weasley matriachs' voice screeched and hollered echoing across the hall. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful first day at Hogwarts but then again, Aziraphale reflected, there never really was. Professor Sprout made her way down the Hufflepuff table handing out this years timetables as Aziraphale poured himself another cup of pumpkin juice. He would much rather have some tea in the mornings but pumpkin juice was a fair enough substitute. He knew for a fact that Crowley would be clinging onto his cup of black coffee like it was a lifeline over at the Slytherin table. He really wasn’t a morning person.

Aziraphale curiously scanned through his timetable for the year, double potions on a Thursday, an early finish Friday and Oh. Defence the dark arts first thing Monday morning. With Professor Lockhart. He shared a despairing look with Cedric who was sat beside him beginning to pick up his satchel to head to lesson. This was going to be a nightmare.

They shared their DADA class with the Slytherins and Aziraphale shared a sullen look with Crowley before sitting down next to Cedric pulling out his parchment, ink pot and quill. When everyone had settled Lockhart swept into the classroom in bright magenta robes almost tripping over a bag in his haste to make a dramatic entrance. Beside him Cedric stifled a snort. The professor smiled in a way that was supposed to be charming and one girl in front of him sighed, dazed. The poor girl.

“…but I didn’t defeat the howling banshee just by smiling at her!”

It was only at this point that Aziraphale had realised the moronic professor had been talking the entire time. The portraits of Lockhart clapped and cheered silent encouragements from the walls of the room and Aziraphale felt a grim despair rise in him as he flicked through the test paper Lockhart had handed out.

  * What is Gilderoy Lockharts favourite colour?
  * What is Gilderoy Lockharts secret ambition?
  * What is Gilderoy Lockharts wand core?



Seems like it is going to be yet another year of self-studying.

Lockhart collected in the test papers, tutting in exaggerated disapproval when tossing them aside. After one particular paper he grew deathly pale and shot concerned looks at the Slytherin side of the classroom before pulling himself together and placing the pile down with an unnecessary flourish. That was the perfect word to describe Lockhart with actually. Unnecessary.

“Now I’ve decided to treat you to a practical lesson today students! I must ask you not to be afraid” he exclaimed before pulling the cover off of the cage in the centre of the room.

“Cornish pixies?” someone muttered at the back of the class and Lockhart practically jumped in delight.

“Yes! Now lets see what you make of them!” he spoke and in an unprecedented moment of idiocy released the lock on the cage.

It was instant pandemonium.

Over the ruckus Aziraphale thought he heard the professor, a term he used loosely, attempt to fix the mess he had created. When that unsurprisingly failed everyone began to move out of the classroom, clutching their bags close to their chests. Aziraphale was almost at the door when Lockhart pushed past him.

“I’ll just leave you two to clean up shall I?” he said quickly disappearing and slamming the door shut behind him. Aziraphale spun around to see who was the other unfortunate soul stuck with him and laughed happily when he saw it was Crowley. The pair of them stared out at the rest of the classroom as one of the pixies began unscrewing the chandelier in the room.

“We could just leave you know” Crowley spoke inching towards the door. Aziraphale nodded in eager agreement.

“Not our problem really is it?”

The pair of them stumbled out the door slamming it shut behind them and laughing all the way down the corridor.

Later Aziraphale heard from Crowley that an inconsolable Lockhart had been found in the staff room, bemoaning the loss of his portraits that had been ruthlessly savaged by the wild Pixies in his classroom. He laughed till he couldn’t breathe.

~

By October Crowley was thoroughly sick of the bumbling fool masquerading as their defence professor and decided if no one else was going to do anything he would. No amount of clever alliteration could hide the fact that the man was obviously a fraud. Crowley just had to prove it. He had ventured to the RoR early Saturday morning and had politely asked the room for any old newspaper clippings it had on the attacks that happened in the towns Lockhart had visited. If there were no records of the attacks then it proved the only thing Lockhart was talented at was coming up with alliterative titles. Throwing another stack of newspapers aside Crowley snorted, he probably paid someone to title the books too. He doubted the blonde peacock had the braincells to rub together to come up with 'Holidaying with Hags'

And that’s how Aziraphale found him some hours later, surrounded by musty papers that confirmed that there was indeed a very nasty hag terrorising the villagers like in Lockharts’ books. In fact the only discrepancy Crowley found between Lockharts’ books and the papers was that Lockhart was only mentioned in one of them. Quite odd for the man’s heroics to not be mentioned in the local paper wasn’t it? Aziraphale did not care for his latest conspiracy and instead was judging him on wasting so much time on pointless things that technically broke the rules when there was homework to be done. Crowley was thinking more in the long term, there wasn't any point doing homework assignments that are based on incorrect information.

Crowley never did like the sound of Rules, he always thought they were too, confining. Strict. Now guidelines he could get behind. Guidelines provided optional safety which, for a magical boarding school in the middle of nowhere, is probably a good thing to have. By choosing to look at the Rules as guidelines Crowley felt no guilt in sneaking out after curfew, thieving from the herbology greenhouses or the occasional spot of blackmail (he was a slytherin blackmail was to be expected) Aziraphale however, maintained the belief that rules were good. They provided order and consistency and his feathers were always ruffled whenever Crowley committed some mildly offensive crime such as permanently sticking sickles to the third floor corridor. However it was completely fine to break the rules when Aziraphale wanted to read a rare book from the restricted section or eat crepes from the kitchen. Crowley loved to point out these double standards, if only to get his way. If he bribed his angel to meet him in the room of requirement with cupcakes and sweets Aziraphale was guaranteed to be there. Although he seemed to draw the line at blackmailing Lockhart to collect evidence for Crowley’s new extra-curricular activity. Proving that the man was a fraud.

“What’s a small invasion of privacy between friends Angel?” Crowley whined

“You don’t blackmail friends Crowley” Aziraphale over accentuated, turning his glare onto Crowley instead of his potions essay.

“Maybe _you_ don’t”

The resounding thud of the potions textbook hitting Crowley’s head echoed across the room.

The month past quite quickly, with only one year left before their OWLS the professors were piling on the work with a horrific vengeance and Crowley found that his days were drowned in a never ending sea of parchment and essays and spell practice, not that he needed the spell practice but theory was absolutely killing him. He couldn’t wait for the October break just so he could cry into his magical theory textbook. But tonight was the Halloween feast and to distract himself Crowley had started a ‘small’ betting pool in Slytherin house on whether or not something spooky would happen on Halloween. The older students adamantly against superstition (probably because they had also cried too much over magical theory) placed their money on ‘no’ many others disagreed and firmly betted yes, a few brave souls chanced a bet on the specifics. Crowley had placed his money on Potter being caught in the middle of the spooky Halloween superstition and although he didn’t want anything bad to happen to the kid he was looking forward to robbing his house-mates blind.

The feast was drawing to a close and as the desserts disappeared Dumbledore ushered them all out of the great hall, Crowley and the other Slytherins’ began moving out towards the door. Crowley smirked as he heard Marcus Flint asking people to pay up as Halloween was almost over and nothing had yet to happen. He had spoken too soon. The mass of students all stumbled to a halt in the corridor, the profesoors ardently trying and failing to get everyone under control doing nothing to stop the entire school seeing what was painted on the wall.

_The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware._

Crowley hoped that the threat wasn’t actually written in blood but judging by the pale faces of the Potter kid and his friends knew he hoped in vain. Beneath the bloody message hung the frozen form of Mrs Norris, the cat hung rigid from the bracket on the wall, ominously still in the flickering light. There had been an attack at Hogwarts. One of the safest places in the world was now under threat.

“You’ll be next mudbloods” the Malfoy Heir hollered admidst the crowd and Crowley barely resisted the urge to face palm. Perfect way to improve their house standing that, they appeared so trustworthy already. Students shuffled nervously as Filch came barreling down the hall screeching and raving like a lunatic. All students were escorted down to their commons as Potter was led away and Crowley tried to push the figure of Mrs Norris’ frozen rigid body to the back of his mind.

The common room was in uproar when he finally stepped in, students screaming at each other, hushed worried whispers and filthy accusatory statements flung at one another across the room. Crowley glanced at the slytherin prefects who were meant to diffuse situations like this and found they were also too busy screaming at each other. Resourceful leaders they were not. He heaved a sigh before dragging one of the footstools by the litter of armcahirs to the front of the room, jumping on top of it. He shouted at the room but no one even bothered looking away from their arguments to listen to him instead. The first years were cowering in the corner and the second years were flattering Malfoy for his oh so clever comment. The older years seemed to understand the severity of the situation but were too busy blaming each other to calm down the house.

Aziraphales’ sense of responsibility must have rubbed off on him.

Crowley tried shouting for everyones’ attention one more time before deciding it was a fruitless endeavour. Instead he raised his fingers to his mouth and tried one of those whistles he had heard in muggle studies. The shrill cry proved more effective than a sonorous and soon everyone was looking in his direction.

“Okay listen up” but no sooner than he had began he was cut off again

“Why should we listen to you” Bletchly hollered from the crowd “you’re nothing but a-

Crowley flicked a wordless silencing hex at Bletchley, silent casting was material that should be far beyond his reach, it's not even taught untill sixth year after all. Finding himself without a voice Bletchly flipped him off much to the scandalised first years surprise.

“That’s why” Crowley said not yet pocketing his wand, languidly twirling it between his fingers.

“According to the ominous and dare I say tacky message that we’ve all seen, the heir of Slytherin is apparently walking the halls of Hogwarts. This places us in a difficult position” Crowley looked out across the crowd of students in front of him “I would like to think that nobody in our house would threaten our home in such a way, nor would I think any Slyhtherin would lack the cunning to be discrete about the opening of the Chamber Of Secrets” at this point he glared at Malfoy who had the decency to look sheepish about his prejudice comments.

“I don’t care what your stance is on blood purity, or if you want to support the heir and their beliefs but if you have these opinions you will not express them in public. We are Slytherins and we face discrimination on a daily basis because of the colour of our ties and we will not make the house rivalries worse” more people in the crowd seemed to be swayed by his speech and Crowley barely stopped himself from smiling in satisfaction. See, he could be responsible.

“If the heir is in this house then I advise them to stop at once. We are a Hogwarts house but first and foremost we are family. And you will not jeopardise family. From now on no one walks alone, move in pairs around the castle, be prepared to defend yourself and for Merlins sake, if you get caught at least have an alibi” Crowley finished, the crowd of students laughing at his comment as he stepped of the stool. He saw Snape standing in the corner of the commons and the professor nodded his head in respect before leaving.

It was only when Crowley had made it back to his dorm did he remember he never took the silencing charm off of Bletchley. He’d do it tomorrow when he made the rounds at breakfast. He had money to collect of his fellow housemates, he had won the bet he deserved to collect his winnings.

Maybe he wasn't _that_ responsible.


	5. 5 galleons on Crowley being the heir of slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chamber has been opened and honestly, it's a bit concerning that no one seems especially worried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe the longest fic I've written is borderline crack, 20k babes! just goes to show where procrastination can get a gal, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Things were quite tense after that, some more oblivious students were simply happy about the absence of Mrs Norris but most of the students recognised that the attack was not a prank but something much more sinister. Someone in Hogwarts was the heir and that meant they were a threat. Aziraphale had heard Crowley complain multiple times over the last week about the state of the Slytherin common room, younger students who hadn’t yet learnt to defend themselves often found themselves being ridiculed, Aziraphale helped as much as he could when it came to these bullying incidents, Cormac McLaggan hadn’t been the same after their confrontation the other day, but he could do nothing to help Crowley with what he called “Slytherin politics” It all seemed rather Machiavellian to Aziraphale, he would much rather concentrate on his studies (which really, the theory is quite fascinating when it comes to complex transfiguration in terms of laws of equal exchange and-) than study complex Slytherin politics and all of its competing factions. Crowley has confessed himself that he didn’t actually care for the power and scheming, much rather preferring to keep his head down and live his own life but if no one else was going to sort out the Slytherins then who bloody would? Certainly not the dour potions professor who was supposed to be their head of house.

All in all, November was proving to be quite dreary, the Scottish weather was living up to its stereotypical perception bringing murky rain and wind that battered against the windows, the castle was cold, house rivalries were high, Crowley was almost definitely up to something which wasn’t new but still left him in suspense and double potions was as mind-numbing as always. And he was ill.

He hated being ill.

The only upside was that his parents had yet to send a “we are disappointed in you” letter yet which was quite promising. Aziraphale was aware that the bar was low but he was still content that they were passing it. He knew that his parents weren’t the best, he wasn’t as impassioned with their views as he was when he was younger, he knew now that he was not a disappointing son but that they were disappointing parents.

And yet he still found it very hard to turn away.

He wasn’t like Crowley who practically taunted his father into disinheriting him, he still took pride in his family name and the legacy he would continue. If Aziraphale were to be disowned he wasn’t even sure who he would be, not like Crowley who is always so certain in himself. So Aziraphale would continue being the dutiful son, the perfect light wizard and secret family disappointment until he reached his majority, then he’d live his own life with no consequences with-

A sneeze shook him out of his train of thought and he sniffled angrily continuing to make his way to the hospital wing, he was sure all he needed was a pepper up potion to get him back to perfect health. Maybe he’d treat himself to a hot chocolate on the way back to the commons before starting on his potions essay. His dreadfully long, boring, dreary, potions essay.

He walked through the hospital wing doors taking a moment to adjust to the blinding white of the room. Madam Pomfrey bustled past him, potions bundled in her arms as she made her way over to a boy lying in a hospital bed at the far end of the room.

“I will be with you in a minute Mr Fell” she said.

Aziraphale sneezed in response.

Madam Pomfrey continued to fuss over whoever was lying in the other bed, muttering about incompetent professors and re-growing bones as she moved about the hospital wing.

“Now you rest up Mr Potter, re-growing bones is a nasty business” she said moving back to Aziraphale who took a moment to commiserate the boy’s bad luck. When would he catch a break? Madam Pomfrey came over to where Aziraphale had perched on the end of the hospital bed, looked him over and nodded to herself quickly fetching a vial of pepper up potion. Aziraphale thanked her politely and swallowed it down in one. It was whilst he waited for his ears to stop steaming he questioned Pomfrey, his curiosity over healing magic only growing.

“If you can mend broken bones with a spell why do you need a potion to regrow them?” Aziraphale asked peering over at Pomfrey who had busied herself with making the beds. She chortled good-naturedly in response

“That kind of magic would be well over your head Mr Fell, my you’ve not even sat your OWLS yet!” she said smiling kindly at him.

“Well what healing magic wouldn’t go over my head, I must confess I have always been fascinated by this line of magic” Aziraphale continued. It would be nice, he thought to himself, to be able to heal Crowley’s bruises when he came back after summer for once.

Pomfrey paused from where she was standing, levelling Aziraphale with a contemplative look for what felt like ages before she finally smiled.

“Well I don’t see what harm it would do” she said before procuring several beginner healing textbooks from her office at the back, handing them over to Aziraphale with an indulgent smile. Aziraphale thanked her, bundling up the books before he was shooed from the hospital wing. He had some studying to do. At least his extracurriculars weren't illegal like Crowley's.

Healing magic really was quite fascinating, Pomfrey had truly given him a beginner’s guide to healing magic but that made it no less complex. Episkey seemed to be a very useful spell for small injuries although Aziraphale suspected it may actually depend on how much magic you fuelled the spell with to see how much it could heal. Mostly used for healing cuts or scrapes Aziraphale supposed it worked by encouraging the skin cells in the body to regenerate at a faster rate which was why the textbook warned against over-layering the simple charm. It was all quite intriguing and Aziraphale had holed himself up in the RoR to devour the books in a way that he knew should have gotten him placed in Ravenclaw. Although knowledge for knowledge’s sake wasn’t a concept he ever overly indulged in he did enjoy learning. It was when he had finished the last textbook Pomfrey had given him with a chapter on blood replenishing (the differences between spell and potion) did he notice that there was not one, not one single reference, to any healing magic in regards to the mind. Which was, to put lightly, quite peculiar.

Aziraphale knew quite a lot about mental health thanks to Crowley. Crowley had told him when he had been recovering from one of his many panic attacks that he suffered from something the muggles called ‘PTSD’ due to, well, Aziraphale didn’t like to speculate but he was fairly certain Crowley’s horrific father was the main culprit. Crowley had gone on to explain the different muggle afflictions that he had learnt about in muggle studies like depression, anxiety and more obscure ones (According to their professor) like ADHD or schizophrenia. Aziraphale had always assumed that the wizarding world could deal with almost any maladies. When a broken bone could be fixed in a matter of seconds it was easy to believe that magic could fix anything but these textbooks mentioned nothing about any mental related affliction. In fact Aziraphale recalled he wasn’t even sure there was a ward in St Mungo’s dedicated to mental health. Aziraphale wasn’t prejudiced and could admit that the muggles really were quite more inventive (and that bit more dangerous) then many wizards gave them credit for but could the wizarding world really be so far behind to not even have begun considering mental illness instead of physical ailments?

Aziraphale was still pondering what he had discovered, or rather what he had not discovered when he went to bed that night donning his extra fluffy tartan pyjamas as the nights grew colder. However all thoughts Aziraphale had on the matter were quickly forgotten in the face of the news he received in the morning.

In the morning the school was met with the news that there had been another attack.

This time it had been a student, Colin Creevey to be exact.

The rest of November past by in a flurry after that. If they thought tensions were high before this attack they were quickly corrected. With the attack of a student, a muggleborn student which was worrying in and of itself, the castle was suddenly filled with fear. Talismans and amulets were being traded and sold in a schoolyard imitation of the black market as people worried about Slytherins monster. The teachers had possibly never had more contraband to confiscate in their lives and nearly every edition of Hogwarts; A History had been checked out of the library as everyone attempted to find out about Slytherins’ Chamber. Aziraphale didn’t need to check the book out, there was no one more likely to know about Slytherin secrets than a Slytherin themselves. Crowley had nothing more to contribute than the usual Hogwarts rumours other than the fact that the Chamber had been opened fifty years prior to this and a girl died before ‘the heir’ was caught and the attacks stopped. The professors, on the other hand, appeared to not care in the slightest about Slytherins’ murderous heir stalking the halls and, as to be expected, cared more for homework. There was only so many times Aziraphale could accidentally only banish half a snail in charms before he got assigned extra practice for homework. He had enlisted Crowley’s help when it came to spell practice as the Slytherin was infuriatingly good at spell work (“-it literally just depends on imagination Angel, you know I don’t do theory-) and in return had lent Crowley his potion notes review as the Christmas break approached. Before Aziraphale had even gotten on top of his homework ten more essays were set and he felt like time was galloping ahead whilst he was left behind, drowned in a veritable sea of ink and parchment. Crowley had told him he was being overly dramatic but Aziraphale could swear that just yesterday he had seen literal tear stains on Crowley’s transfiguration essay.

The Hogsmeade trip scheduled for that weekend was a welcome reprieve. The village always reminded Aziraphale of a Christmas card in the winter months when the fresh snow dusted the rooftops and blanketed the paths. He headed down with Cedric, the pair of them desperate to buy Christmas presents for their friends without said friends catching on and ruining the surprise. It was a pleasant day out and he and Cedric had indulged in some butterbeer before they both decided to return to the castle and parted with the admittedly amusing sight of Hagrid and Flitwick getting absolutely sloshed on Madam Rosmerta's fire whiskey. He and Cedric laughed their way all back up to the castle and after bundling up Crowley’s present and hiding it in his dorm he decided to hunt down the fiend himself. The red-head had elected to miss today’s Hogsmeade trip to work on his charms essay (“-Why do magic laws exist, magic defies logic! So does this essay!-) and Aziraphale hoped he knew his friend well enough to know he wouldn’t be in the library. Aziraphale didn’t necessarily mind the Hogwarts Library but he could agree with Crowley that their preferred room in the RoR was definitely cosier and less public. How anyone could get any group projects done with Madame Pince looming over your shoulder Aziraphale would never know.

Aziraphale finally made it to the seventh floor after changing routes when he almost stumbled upon Peeves who had managed to acquire several ink pots. He pushed the door open and glanced around the room before doing a double-take when he realised Crowley wasn’t actually there. The Slytherin wasn’t on the armchairs nor the sofa and the desk they used was vacant of everything but a half-written charms essay, the ink long since dried. It wasn’t until Aziraphale did a second sweep of the room did he notice that there, blending into the thick shag rug the room provided, was a snake. The snake was contentedly basking in the warmth of the fireplace and didn’t even deign to open his eyes when Aziraphale came and stood over him.

“Is this how you’ve spent your entire day Crowley?” Aziraphale questioned disapprovingly.

A slow uncomprehending blink from the snake.

“What about your charms work?”

A petulant hiss.

Progress.

“You can’t hide from your work forever, dear”

Snake! Crowley levelled him with a very smug look which screamed 'and who are you to stop me?' Which, physically shouldn’t have been possible for a snake but just further proved that Crowley’s self-assured smugness was vast and bountiful and transcended any boundary known to man. Crowley moved further to the fire in his never-ending quest to taunt Aziraphale and hissed happily.

Aziraphale sat down on the sofa primly “Well you should be ashamed of yourself and since you’re not ashamed I shall simply be ashamed for you” he finished with a sniff before proceeding to empty his satchel full to the brim of Honeydukes products onto the table.

Crowley shifted instantly the second he spotted a package of ice-mice in the fray.

The charms essay never did get written.

The days fell by in a lull after that as many people began packing, ready to return home for the Winter break, Aziraphale among them. It wasn’t till an announcement was posted across the common rooms did excitement begin to pick up again. Hogwarts was reinstating the duelling club. He and Crowley had both decided to attend and Aziraphale hoped professor Flitwick would be the one leading the club but if not he was sure it would be an educational experience as long as it wasn’t- _Oh_ _No_.

All hope for an educational experience was dashed when Lockhart strode through the door. Aziraphale was stood on the opposite side of the hall, duelling club had sounded like quite a nifty idea when he first saw the sign-up sheets and although he was a dab hand at transfiguration and the like he could admit to himself that he needed to brush up on his defence. He knew all about dark creatures and jinxes and hexes but applying them was a whole new thing. He tended to become flustered when under pressure. Crowley wasn’t too good at duelling either which is probably why he was sulking (not sulking, ‘brooding’ much different) in the back corner. Whilst Aziraphale mainly used his surroundings in duels Crowley’s style could be best defined as ‘being a little shit’ The one and only time the pair had duelled together Aziraphale had ended up slipping on ice, laughing so hard he dropped his wand through a tickling charm and then unable to cast any spells due to a tongue-tying jink. Crowley annoyed his opponents into leaving him alone instead of fighting them. So far it had surprisingly worked out in the occasional duel. Not so much in the classroom.

And so Aziraphale had hoped with a good enough teacher his skills would improve. But he was now certain the only thing he would gain was a waste of his time. He shook himself out of his musings when he noticed Snape striding in afterwards looking positively mutinous. The potions professor was evidently the moron's reluctant partner. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a fruitless experience after all. Almost anything was worth seeing Lockhart put in his place. It’s always a hard task to put idiots in their place, they were always so sure of their own stupidity they rarely even noticed.

Case in point-

“Might I say it was _pretty obvious_ what you were about to do”

One more unsuccessful duel later Aziraphale was just debating the merits of calling an end to this entire endeavour and walking out of the hall when Potter and Malfoy were called to the stage. Potter had just clambered up on the table- oh wait no – the _duelling platform_ and Snape was whispering to the young Malfoy whom Aziraphale did not care for in the slightest. The two bowed to each other looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. A sentiment Aziraphale could agree with and before Harry could say anything Malfoy had yelled out

“Serpansortia”

Aziraphale tensed as a long black snake fell out onto the table, coiling itself in as it looked out across the students, yellow eyes unblinking. Lockhart, his idiocy seemingly knowing no bounds, waved his hands excitedly

“Oh I’ll just take care of that” he shouted dramatically, shooting off a spell that achieved absolutely nothing but ticking off the now rather vicious snake in the centre of the club. The snake wheeled around on a fellow Hufflepuff, rearing back its head before it suddenly halted, agitatedly moving about the stage. Potter was frantically hissing at the snake seemingly attempting to get it to stop. Snape quickly vanished the snake leaving the hall in shock, staring at young Harry Potter in a stupefied silence. Hogwarts youngest parslemouth. Who would have thought? Obviously not the young Potter if his confused face was anything to go by.

“He told it to attack me!” Justin cried scrambling away. Unknown to everyone else Harry Potter was not the only parslemouth to walk these halls. Aziraphale swung his head to glare at Crowley who stood staring contemplatively at the clamour of students before him. Aziraphale frantically shook his head from across the room wide-eyed hoping that-

“Well actually”

Too late. Crowley had pushed his way through the throng of students over to the Hufflepuff who had stopped mid accusation that Potter was trying to murder them.

“I think you’ll find that Potter was actually stopping the snake from murdering you” Crowley finished, hands tucked into his jeans pockets which were definitely not a part of the school uniform. Had Crowley always looked that good? Aziraphale shook his head at himself returning to watching the inevitable train crash in front of him.

“Oh yeah” said Justin confrontationally which might have been threatening if he wasn’t 12 “how would you know?”

Crowley sighed despairingly as if the answer was obvious before removing his sunglasses that Aziraphale knew half of Hogwarts had a betting pool on what they were covering. Crowley’s glaringly yellow slitted snake eyes stared unblinking at the crowd in front of him, his shoulders tense.

“Take a guess genius” Crowley spoke with exaggerate sibilance sticking out his forked tongue before hissing unintelligibly out at the crowd. Judging by the way Potter flushed he couldn’t have said anything nice.

Everyone was quickly escorted out of the hall after that revelation and Aziraphale couldn’t even wait until tomorrow to accost Crowley over what he had done. Aziraphale tried to discreetly manoeuvre his way through the crowd and bumped shoulders with Crowley as he passed hoping that that would be enough to communicate his desire to talk. Crowley had evidently got the message as a mere few minutes after he did the redhead strode through the door of the RoR. Aziraphale didn’t even wait until the red-headed menace settled into his favourite armchair before he started his interrogation

“I thought you said you’d never tell anyone Crowley!” Aziraphale demanded, studying his friend to make sure he was okay. Crowley gestured madly as he tried to find a way to defend himself

“You can’t hold me accountable for things I’ve said Angel, I lie! You know I lie!”

Aziraphale let Crowley carry on with his dramatics for a while before he laid a placating hand on his shoulder

“I know dear, I just wanted to make sure you were okay” he said softly, smiling. Crowley’s cheeks flushed a light pink as he started muttering about not wanting to leave Potter to the dogs before practically fleeing the RoR.

How odd.

The rumours were once again flying around Hogwarts and Crowley found himself to be one of the contenders for the title of Heir of Slytherin. After all he and Potter were both parslemouths, they were a danger to the school. Who would be their next victim? Fear seemed to dog the footsteps of the castles inhabitants as the days dragged on. The answer to that question arrived in the form of an attack, Justin Finch-Fletchley’s frigid body was found in the Hogwarts halls.

And as loathed as Aziraphale was to part with Crowley, the next day he boarded the train home for winter break.

He only hoped Crowley would still be there when he returned.


	6. oh fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gratituous use of the room of requirement? check   
> Crowleys' Lockhart is a fraud theory? check  
> one gay crisis? oh boy, check  
> TW for some implied/referenced homophobia because the Fell family are dicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has taken me far too long to write a small chapter but I hope if you read it you'll enjoy it! I honestly didn't expect to get very far with this little WIP but it's fun to write and you guys enjoy it so that's good enough for me  
> Thanks for reading!

Crowley was having quite a productive break. He had set up a cork board in the room of requirement tracking his ‘Lockhart Is a Fraud’ theory and he had gotten the professor’s presents ready, once again using his Fathers money. The man wasn’t happy about it but Crowley was his only heir and that was important in the pureblood circles. He couldn’t be disowned but he could at least be a disappointment. Crowley was glad to be a disappointment, he didn’t want to fall in line with his sadist fascist family. Aziraphale was allowed home for Christmas that year, no one to see the family shame as his friend put it. Crowley had never wanted to punch someone so bad in his life but he had time to convince Aziraphale he was better than his family. They still had quite a few years at Hogwarts left.

The Slytherin Commons were quite empty, anyone who stayed at home for the holidays lazed about in armchairs pleasantly full from the Christmas Feast. Crowley was not planning on moving from his spot by the fire for a while happily dozing in front of the flames. That was until he noticed Crabbe and Goyles mad-dash out of the commons lumbering through the entrance. He usually wouldn’t have batted an eye but last he checked neither of the boys hair was an alarming shade of ginger. Slinking out quietly behind them (unlike most of his year mates he understood the concept of stealth) and watched bemused as Crabbe and Goyle turned into none other than Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The two twelve year olds were so relieved by their escape they didn’t notice Crowley stood behind them for several minutes.

“Draco Malfoy is not the Heir Of Slytherin, you two know him better than me, you know he’s not smart enough” Crowley joked, grinning at the two befuddled second years in front of him. The two boys tried to scramble an explanation together and as entertaining as it was to hear that Harry Potter had actually always been a Slytherin and that Crowley was dreadfully mistaken he interrupted them.

“Just don’t try and sneak in again and we’ll call it even”

The pair of them did not look like they believed him in the slightest. Rude. Understandable but rude. Instead of trying to convince the stubborn Weasley who was turning an interesting shade of red he instead turned to Potter, slipping into parseltongue as he spoke

“You’re an honorary snake Potter and we snakes stick together” Crowley then made some shooing motions with his hand turning his back on them “Now get lost you two” he said as he made his way back into the commons. Maybe he’d teach that little first year Adam how to do the permanent sticking charm. For educational purposes.

When Aziraphale came back from the winter break he wasn’t impressed with the cork board in the RoR, not even when Crowley pointed out that the emerald green yarn had silver sparkles in it. If anything that made the disapproving glare he had levelled at Crowley worse. Crowley didn’t get it, he was protecting the school. Surely that was an honourable course of action.

Crowley flopped onto the sofa next to Aziraphale explaining how he had talked Madam Pince into giving him access to the old school records. The student profiles were usually accompanied by pictures and after laying down a sob story about how ‘they had no pictures of his mum from when she was younger and he couldn’t possibly ask his father because It was painful to talk about and how he just wanted to _see_ her’ she let him in. He studiously ignored the small grain of truth in his spiel and carried on with his mission. It had taken him longer than he thought it would to track down Lockhart’s record. Took him even longer to wrap his head around the fact that this guy was a Ravenclaw. He had duplicated the results record and pinned it up to the board when he got back from his recon mission. Lockhart had apparently been very good at charms but abysmal at defence only getting an Acceptable. Only further proving that Crowley was right about the idiot.

“Now aside from breaking, entering and stealing what are you planning next?” Aziraphale questioned and it was a mark of their friendship that the blonde had not even tried to stop him.

“Well” Crowley said gesturing to the amassed pile of letters in front of him “I plan to send these off to the local papers of the towns Lockhart’s been too and see if they remember the peacocks heroic deeds. If they do, I admit defeat, if they don’t” Crowley paused before smiling “we return back to our good old friend breaking and entering”

The silence after his proclamation lasted roughly five seconds before Aziraphale began spluttering

“Wait, _we-_ “

Over the course of the month the board in the RoR became steadily filled with the replies off the news agents, No, no one could recall anyone named Gilderoy Lockhart, No there had never been a dark creature attack, no they didn’t know what issue of the paper Crowley was talking about. The only logical conclusion to be drawn from this was that they needed more evidence. And the only way to collect this evidence would be through spying on the professor. Crowley operated under the impression that it would only be illegal if they got caught and he had no intention of that ever happening. Aziraphale disagreed and Crowley watched as the blonde began another point on his list on ‘why this is a bad idea’

“And how would you even spy on him Crowley? Electronics don’t work in Hogwarts and you can’t possibly believe you can be in two places at once, you can’t exactly spy on him all day long”

Now that, admittedly, had Crowley a bit stumped. Muggles didn’t know how it easy they had it. If only he could invent a sort of, magical bugging system.

A loud thump cut off his train of thought. On the coffee table, between Crowley and Aziraphale’s intimidating glare the Room had placed a neat orderly stack of books, from textbooks to intimidating leather bound tomes. Aziraphale stopped ranting and in true form leaned closer to inspect the stacks of books delicately tracing the spines of the older books before his blue eyes confronting Crowley’s own.

“What did you just think of?”

Crowley knew better than to try and pull an innocent face, brushing a hand through his hair he sent a small smile at ‘Zira

“How cool would a magical bugging system be Angel?”

With a long suffering groan Aziraphale flung himself on the sofa next to Crowley smothering his face in one of the monstrously knitted cushions.

“Why can we never do normal things Crowley?” he heard through the cushion “why can we never just eat French pastries, why is it always illegal mayhem with you?”

Crowley was positive that the last question was not meant to be answered but Crowley replied anyway “You wouldn’t have me any other way Angel”

With a muffled snort Aziraphale emerged from his suffocation pillow cheeks faintly red and hair ruffled. Crowley looked at his friend imploringly

“If it wasn’t possible the Room wouldn’t be helping us Angel and you know what I think about magic-

“We are only told it is impossible because somebody has yet to do it” Aziraphale cut him off in a long suffering tone. Crowley didn’t let his surprise at Aziraphale show, only nodding on agreement.

“Don’t you want to be those somebodies Angel?”

The silence held and Crowley had to stop himself from shuffling nervously as Aziraphale looked at him with a blank gaze before it collapsed into a reluctantly complying expression. Angel pulled one of the books towards him shaking his head

“I bet you wish you’d taken Arithmancy now” he jibed quietly. Before Crowley could start his ‘Hey Kettleburn is a great teacher and here’s why’ campaign another textbook from the pile was thrown at him. Barely catching it he turned to Aziraphale in mock disappointment

“So violent” he tutted, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say my dear” Aziraphale absently replied.

Crowley buried his face in the textbook and studiously ignored the way his heart stuttered at Aziraphales’ favourite endearment.

Between normal school work and inventing a whole new spell Aziraphale’s free time slowly seemed to slip away. He spent most of his time buried in books, ink splatters over his hands and avoiding Gabriel which seemed to be the only constant in his life. It took weeks of arguing back and forth over ideas before the pair of them had landed on a theoretical version of their magical bugging system (which they had yet to name) Crowley had stormed into the RoR one night, gesturing wildly as he rambled about his muggle studies lesson that day where they learned about something named ‘walkie-talkies’ Aziraphale had to stop himself from walking out of the room all together when he heard the ridiculous name and had to, again, remind Crowley that electronics don’t actually work in Hogwarts. Crowley had scoffed before going on to explain his plan, pulling the two devices from his bag. Aziraphale was wise enough to not inquire where he had gotten them from. Crowley believed that by linking the two objects together with a protean charm and applying an inverted sonorous which he had happily left Aziraphale to work the mind-numbing details out for they would work in almost the same manner. The only things that remained to do was test the theory and possibly reinforce the metal with ancient runes before they could see if their invention worked then-

Aziraphale stopped dead before he entered the hall.

It was pink. Not just pink though, Aziraphale contemplated as he moved to take a seat by Cedric, it was an unholy amount of pink. The kind of mismatched vibrancy of pink that one could only usually find on Dumbledore’s robes now coated the entire hall. If Aziraphale’s brain was not already fried trying to process the newly decorated hall he would have balked at the squat surly looking dwarves that stood around the edge of the hall, paper thin cupid wings pinned to their back. As it were he only continued to stare uncomprehendingly out at the hall as Cedric laughed beside him handing him a piece of toast in commiserating silence. 

“It’s Valentine’s day” Cedric offered as a means of explanation that did not explain anything at all. This was Aziraphale’s fourth year at Hogwarts and he had yet to see anything like this. Taking pity on him Cedric continued

“It was Lockhart’s idea”

Aziraphale nodded his head and proceeded to smother his toast in jam. It was truly a sad state of affairs that that did explain it all.

The day that followed was one that all the Hogwarts alumni would remember. Nobody was safe from the dwarves and Aziraphale had seen people actually accosted by them in the corridors as they delivered singing valentines. They made the mistake of barging into Snape’s potion classroom only once and then avoided the entirety of the dungeons for the rest of the day. Aziraphale wished to know exactly what the potions professor did to scare them so much in hopes that they would leave the hufflepuff commons alone. Aziraphale was pleasantly surprised to have two valentine cards delivered to him this year and good naturedly endured Cedric’s teasing over how much he had blushed. The other hufflepuff had acquired many valentines over the day but Aziraphale noticed how his eyes kept drifting over to the pretty Ravenclaw, Cho Chang, as they ate dinner in the great hall. Lockhart’s army of terrifying messenger dwarves had thankfully been called off and the meal was left in well-deserved peace. It was only when the dishes were cleaned did any interruption occur.

A loud bang echoed across the hall and Aziraphale found himself ducking on instinct along with the rest of the hall. You could not be exposed to the Weasley twins’ particular brand of mischief for years without developing some form of survival instincts. Aziraphale lifted his head looking around the hall to find the source of the noise when his eyes landed on the Slytherin table or more specifically, Crowley. The red head held a tattered smoking envelope in his hand, evidently the source of the explosion, with an abject look of confusion on his face sat amongst the chaos.

The envelope had exploded into a mess of sparkling glitter and red rose petals, some of which were still floating through the air but most had landed on Crowley himself. He shook his head vigorously to rid himself of the glitter and rose petals that had landed in his hair grinning all the while before eventually vanishing all the glitter on him laughing in delight. He was probably one of the only people in the school who would be targeted by the Weasley twins and laugh at it. Aziraphale shook his head fondly as the chaos died down and Crowley sent a crooked grin his way nose scrunching adorably. Aziraphale quickly glanced away to hide his blush his mind clouded with confusion.

Of course he had been aware that Crowley was what one considered to be attractive, he was tall and lean and Aziraphale was sure that he had been making his pants tighter every year. Not that Aziraphale had been looking, certainly not. And yes lately perhaps he had been more nervous than usual when sitting next to Crowley on the sofa and he had an annoying urge to hold the other boy close to him but surely that was just because of how close they were as friends. And there was absolutely nothing that could be implied from how endearing he found Crowley’s idiosyncrasies. And it didn’t mean anything that Aziraphale loved to hear him laugh and that his heart pounded when he grinned or his stomach did backflips when he heard his years old pet name nickname or that he wondered what it would be like to kiss him or-

Oh.

_Oh_

Aziraphale didn’t swear often but

“Oh _fuck_ ”

The weeks dragged on after that. There was nothing quite like an identity crisis to plunge your days into a mixture of confusion and self-loathing. Aziraphale knew Crowley had noticed how distracted he had been lately and _merlin_ it was hard to pretend nothing had changed when he looked at Crowley now. Even his teachers had noticed something was troubling him but that was probably hard to ignore when the glass he was transfiguring still ruffled feathers when water got to close to it. He was distracted and moody and apparently refusing the last macaroon at dinner today was the last draw as the second he entered the hufflepuff common room he was jumped on and dragged to a sofa by Cedric. The other boy manhandled him into sitting down on the plush sofa in front of the merrily crackling fire and Aziraphale could only stare up in confusion at the group in front of him.

There was Cedric, obviously, standing in front of him with what he probably thought was a stern expression. By Cedric stood Marlene, a bright bubbly blonde in their year who he shared potions with and sixth year prefect James. James took their role of prefect seriously and always made it their objective to look after the members of the house. The prefect had even began staging-

“This is an intervention isn’t it” Aziraphale said unimpressed by the three in front of him.

“It’s an intervention!” Marlene cheered from beside Cedric. Aziraphale didn’t change his deadpan expression but the other three seeing that he probably wasn’t going to try and escape took a seat on the chairs opposite him.

Interventions hadn’t been around for that long as a hufflepuff tradition, a seventh year had been chatting to his Ravenclaw friends when they had spoken of the concept. The next week the first hufflepuff intervention had been staged for someone who had been skipping potions class all year and from there it became the go to way to deal with in-house problems. Aziraphale didn’t think he would class himself as an ‘in-house problem’ but he was touched by their concern none the less.

“Okay, spill Sunshine or we’ll torture it out of you” James said before pointing to Cedric who threateningly brandished a feather in his general direction.

“And don’t you dare tell us nothing’s wrong” Marlene chimed in, high pony tail swinging behind her as she shook her head jabbing a finger at him.

“Gabriel got stuck in the trick step today and you didn’t even laugh” Cedric added.

Aziraphale hated keeping things from his friends but he couldn’t tell anyone about Crowley as much as he wanted too. The second word got back to their families they’d both be branded traitors, Aziraphale for being a ‘dark magic sympathiser’ and Crowley for being a ‘blood traitor muggle lover’ Maybe Aziraphale didn’t have to mention Crowley, maybe he could just talk about the…other stuff.

It was hard realising you had a crush on your best friend. It was also hard realising that said best friend was a boy which in turn meant realising he had apparently very new, very gay feelings for his best friend. And as much as he would like to pretend he never had his realisation, to pull the wool back over his eyes and repress his feelings so he would never have to deal with the floodgate it would open he knew he had to deal with his feelings. Which is what he’d been doing these past few weeks. But under the imploring gaze of his friends he knew it would be good for him to open up. Aziraphale wringed his hands as he thought of the best way to explain his monumental freak out

“I think” Aziraphale began hesitantly “I think I might be gay?”

The three sat in silence for a moment and Aziraphale felt panic squeezing his lungs before all his fear was cut short as Cedric leapt from his chair and gave him the biggest bear hug of his life. Marlene joined not a second later, scrambling over the sofa to fling herself at Aziraphales’ free side. James, the calmest of the trio, knelt down in front of him and took his hands into their own. Aziraphale couldn’t help the choked laugh that escaped him as he was buried under his friends and their reassurances, eyes stinging. He knew his friends would still love him (‘of course we still love you! Liking boys doesn’t change anything Aziraphale-) but he still couldn’t help the feelings of shame when he thought about his families reaction. When he confessed this from his place in the cuddle pile the intervention had turned into Cedric’s reply was immediate

“Kill them”

Aziraphale burst out laughing at that and it seemed that was the only encouragement they needed before chiming in their own ideas. They spent the rest of the night coming up with more and more ridiculous ways to destroy Aziraphales’ family which ranged from murder, a loose niffler and one very entertaining idea involving a flash mob. It was with a lighter heart that Aziraphale went to bed that night, his friends truly did know just what to say to him. Before he climbed into bed Aziraphale stopped at his bed side table and in one of the brightly coloured plant pots Crowley had gifted him he stuck in a small rainbow flag. James had pulled it out from one of the many ‘clutter-drawers’ the commons had and Aziraphale almost cried again when James had explained what it was. The flag stood proudly from its place on the nightstand. He didn’t need his family’s acceptance. He had all the family he needed right here.


	7. unwilling detective Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end of the year is around the corner and nothing seems to be going right for Aziraphale and Crowley, it's a fourth year they'll never forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this wraps up the chamber of secrets arc! and let me tell you this did not go according to my plan at all but I went with it anyway because I have no self control, I hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think in the comments!

Crowley was glad that Angel had clambered out of whatever funk he was in by the end of the week. It had been disconcerting to see his usual cheery friend so sullen but Crowley knew when he shouldn’t pry and this was one of those times. He could only attempt to cheer up Angel in whatever way he could and when he overheard Diggory was plotting an intervention he knew ~~his~~ Angel would be back to normal in no time. And not a moment too soon, March was already here which meant Crowley, and by association Aziraphale, only had a few months left to prove Lockhart was a fraud if the DADA curse held true again for another year.

And all of this took them to where they are now, staring down at the finished product.

“I still think we could just keep calling them walkie-talkies” Crowley grumbled next to Aziraphale

“And I still think you’re wrong” the blonde shot back immediately as Crowley moved to pick one up running his hand over it. Turning to face Aziraphale he grinned mischievously throwing the walkie-talkie into his bag

“Remember to turn the volume off the one you’re planting, we don’t want Lockhart to hear anything on our end” Aziraphale reminded. Crowley discretely put a hand back in his bag to turn the volume off.

“Commence operation Peacock”

He pretended he didn’t hear Aziraphale groaning behind him. The name was awesome.

The corridors were surprisingly busy for a Saturday morning until Crowley remembered the quidditch game today. A perfect excuse for Lockhart to not be in his office. They slowly made their way to the Defence classroom, Aziraphale trailing behind him so no one would see them together and Merlin didn’t that leave a bitter taste in his mouth. There was more hustle and bustle as they reached the floor of the Defence classroom and Crowley didn’t even try and disguise the quiet ‘fuck’ he swore when he saw Lockhart stood in front of the defence classroom. Nothing could ever go smoothly for them could it. Aziraphale bumped into him as Crowley slowed to a stop, too many people in the hall to notice if the slytherin and hufflepuff were stood too close together

“Oh what do we do now, we can’t get in if he won’t move from the classroom door” Aziraphale worried as they both stared in transfixed horror. Crowley looked around desperately for a distraction before smiling grimly

“If there is one thing that Lockhart loves more than bragging about himself it’s bragging about himself to Potter”

Crowley darted forward until he was within hearing distance of the professor already feeling bad for what he was about to do

“Oh professor isn’t that Potter over there, weren’t you looking for him?” Crowley said loudly wincing as Lockhar abandoned his post at the Defence door to chase down the student. Potter’s head had immediately snapped towards the commotion, green eyes shining in a mixture of anger and despair. Mouthing a sorry and throwing a quick wink over the top of his glasses Crowley slipped into the classroom.

The office door was all the way at the other side of the classroom, to get to it he would have to sneak past all the portraits Lockhart had of himself hanging around the room. Although probably not intended to be used as a defence the thought of crossing the room without being spotted had suddenly become a formidable task. Most of the portraits seemed to be dozing within their frames but at least two were preening from their spot on the wall. It woudln't take much for his presence to be noticed.

He could just burn them all.

That was something he could do.

But that would draw attention to their operation which was something they definitely didn’t want. Crowley pondered the situation a bit longer before it hit him. Shoving his bag into a darkened corner he rested the walkie-talkie on top of it. Double checking to see if the door was definitely locked Crowley then quickly shifted into his animagus form. Instantly everything seemed much taller, terrifyingly large images of Lockhart winking at imaginary fans hung about the room. Moving silently Crowley unhinged his jaw (and wasn’t that just one of the most disgustingly strange feelings he had ever felt) and took the walkie talkie into his mouth and then began sliding across the room. Weaving in and out of desks and chairs he made sure to stay out of sight of the Lockhart-Portraits as he slowly made his way across. He felt a bit like James Bond on a mission.

He finally reached the end of the classroom, stopping in front of the oak door leading to Lockhart’s office. He could probably quickly shift to break into the room without being noticed even if it was risky but what kind of idiot would leave their door open-

Curiously Crowley nudged his head against the door blinking slowly in uncomprehending silence as it actually swung ajar far enough that Crowley could slip in. Of course Lockhart _was_ that kind of idiot. Dropping the walkie-talkie to the ground Crowley shifted again smiling happily as he looked around. Now he just had to find somewhere to place the thing. It was small enough, much less bulky than its muggle counterpart but it still hard to discreetly place. Crowley briefly entertained the idea of permanently sticking it to the ceiling above the desk but knew that it would be easily spotted, even for someone whose majority of brain cells had wandered off on a family picnic. Crouching down he finally decided to stick it to the underside of the desk figuring it would be as safe a bet than any. Nodding to himself Crowley shifted back into his snake form to make his getaway sliding past the portraits unnoticed. Shifting back he took one last cursory glance around the room to make sure nothing was out of place before leaving the class. Aziraphale fell into step with him not a moment after and the pair shared two matching mischievous grins as they walked away.

The good news was that there magical walkie talkies (‘we are not calling them Walkie Talkies’) worked without any problems. The bad news was that Lockhart liked to monologue. A lot. And never about anything that was actually useful. It was Easter Break and Crowley was suffering through another such monologue with Aziraphale speaking over Lockhart’s voice as he waxed poetic about his own autographed photos.

“I have to admit that I am still quite worried about this Heir business” Aziraphale confessed from beside him as Crowley attempted to steal a marshmallow from Angel’s mug of hot chocolate. “No further progress has been made on detaining the heir and who knows when someone else will be attacked.” He said slapping Crowley’s hand away. Pouting Crowley stopped trying to steal his friend’s marshmallows and took a sip from his own mug of hot chocolate instead.

“If you’re that worried Angel you could just carry a mirror with you”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and seemed to take a moment to pray for patience and then levelled Crowley with a withering stare

“And _why_ would a _mirror_ help in this situation Crowley?”

Crowley stared in confusion at Aziraphale wondering what about the mirror had caused such an unwarranted reaction. Sure mirrors weren’t always the go to weapon of choice but when facing down a-

Crowley had never actually told Aziraphale what the monster was had he? Or at least he was pretty damn sure anyway. How could he forget to mention that? Really it was Aziraphale’s fault for not asking him before this, Angel can’t complain for not having an answer to a question he never asked

“Well a mirror would help because I’m pretty certain that Slytherins monster is a basilisk” Crowley carried on hurridley before Aziraphale could interrupt him with a million questions “First of all its’ _Slytherins_ monster, it has to be snaked themed, that man would not give up his aesthetic for the life of him. Second point, I’ve been hearing a voice in the wall-

“A voice in the wall” Aziraphale deadpanned

“Parseltongue remember? Only I can hear it and it sounds hissy, adding to my snake theory by the way. After that we’re looking for something with a very long life span and something with petrification powers thus Basilisk. I do take care of magical creatures you know” Crowley finished indignitadley. Aziraphale was hopelessly miming the word Basilisk with furrowed brows and a confused expression.

“But a basilisks gaze kills” he said slowly

“Ah but” Crowley exclaimed as if he were delivering a lesson “no one has seen the beast directly, always through reflected surfaces Thus, mirror” he finished sagely eyeing Aziraphale for any sign of violence

“How long have you known about this Crowley?” Aziraphale asked after he had gotten over his shock. He shuffled nervously keeping an eye on the blonde next to him

“A few months” he replied wincing. The silence held for a few moments before Aziraphale exploded

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant-

“Not. Relevant!-

Lockhart’s voice still droned on about hair care products from behind them as the pair jokingly argued, their hot chocolate growing cold.

The next day Crowley got summoned to the hospital wing.

Crowley burst through the hospital wing doors, lungs heaving, glasses askew as he stood in the main door eyes glazed over and manic.

“Where the fuck is my best friend” Crowley managed to choke out scanning the ward for any sign of his blonde haired angel. Granger lay unmoving on one of the beds, another victim of todays attack. The professors all facing him stood silently in a state of disbelief.

“Aziraphale. Where is he?” Crowley ground out panic tinging his tone and looking for all intents and purposes two seconds away from murder. McGonagall and Dumbledore parted un-obstructing his view to the bed next to Grangers. All fight immediately bled out of Crowley and he all but ran to Aziraphale’s bedside, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale who he had only known for four years but already knew him more than he knew himself, who stood by him and confided in him and laughed with him and protected him. Aziraphale who was lying there stiff and not moving and _not dead, not dead, not dead_ but as good as and Crowley could do nothing. His best friend was lying there and he could do nothing and oh merlin he was crying, his eyes were burning as he held onto Aziraphale’s hand as if it were a life line. Crowley was shaking but couldn’t seem to move away from his friend’s bed side, move his hand away from where he had rested it feeling the steady pump of the pulse ( _not dead, not dead, not dead_ )

“We can’t make exceptions for students who wish to stay with their friends Mr Crowley, you shouldn’t be out after curfew” Dumbledore spoke as the other teachers remained quiet watching the events fold out in front of them. Crowley noticed how Dumbledore paused on friend and it was only then when Crowley realised why he had caused such stupefied silence.

No one knew that he and Aziraphale were best friends. No one knew they even knew each other, besides Pomona who by the looks of things hadn’t revealed their secret. No wonder Snape hadn’t made any snide remarks. Crowley couldn’t care less. There was one thing he cared about and he was currently lying comatose.

“Yes well by rights there shouldn’t be a basilisk roaming around the school but here we are” Crowley snapped not looking away from Aziraphale, Crowley rubbed his hand in soothing circles. It was hard looking at his Angel. The only thing keeping his from falling apart was the pulse he could feel under his palm. This scene was far too reminiscent of one from years ago, of his mother lying in a bed, his hand in hers except unlike her he could feel Aziraphales’ steady pulse ( _not dead, not dead, not dead_ ) The professors seemed to have lapsed into an uncomprehending silence before Snape cleared his throat.

“A basilisk? Do you care to expand on your conspiracy Mr Crowley?” Snape sneered looking down on him. Crowley paused breathing in deeply, he couldn’t believe he had to actually explain this.

“The hissing only me and Potter can hear? The petrification? The monster of slytherin whose representative animal is a snake? It’s just a question of whose controlling it and how it’s getting about really isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you come forward before?” McGonagall questioned frowning disapprovingly

“I figured you already knew, in future I won’t presume my professors are competent” He was pretty sure Snape snorted there “you’ve already put safety precautions in place, you won’t tell the students and no angry pureblood will actually succeed in blackmailing the school of governors to shut Hogwarts down, it’s a ludicrous thought. Besides I was busy”

“And what could have kept you so busy Mr Crowley?” Dumbledore questioned bemused

“Oh you know me, very invested in my extracurricular activities” he lied lyingly. Recreational blackmail was never a good thing to own up too after all.

“I’m afraid our point still stands Mr Crowley, visiting hours are over” Pomfrey spoke softly from behind him and Crowley reluctantly pulled his hand away from Aziraphale’s stiff palm. He knew that the mandrakes were almost ready, had helped Professor Sprout herself in tending to them but that knowledge didn’t make seeing Angel near-dead any easier. Standing up Crowley lifted his glasses up to wipe his eyes, dragging his hands down his face he released a sigh before turning away facing the teachers.

“I’d appreciate it if no one heard about me visiting Aziraphale” he spoke calmly with a confidence he certainly didn’t feel. The professors shared amused glances before Dumbledore spoke up blue eyes twinkling

“And why dear boy do you wish to keep your friendship with Mr Fell a secret?”

The headmaster was surely going to go on and spiel something about the magic of friendship but with Aziraphale lying in the hospital bed behind him, _not dead, not dead, not dead,_ he had little patience for a speech on the power of friendship

“No offence Sir but we don’t all have the luxury of being adored little Gryffindors” Crowley kept his tone light but met the headmasters eyes in a steely gaze. "Familial obligations have to come first" The silence hung heavily for a few moment before Snape acquiesced

“We shall keep your secret Mr Crowley” he murmured and Crowley nodded his head in acknowledgment striding out of the hospital wing leaving the professors and Aziraphale behind. When he returned to his orm he cried himself to sleep.

The next day Dumbledore was removed from his post as headmaster. Security levels had tightened and classes were escorted by teachers in the halls, meal times were subdued and the air hang heavy across the castle. Crowley hadn’t even been able to slip away and visit Aziraphale in the hospital wing and he was getting sick of the pitying looks the teachers kept giving him. He would rather take his class-mates scorn. Not that he wasn’t getting that already. People viciously hissed at him in the corridors, tried to trip him or shove him as he walked past and Peeves had created a lovely ditty for both him and Potter who had received the same ruthless bullying from the student body. Crowley had taken to humming the tune down the corridors when he was walking and on one notable occasion the Weasley twins had even joined in “Its Crowley Oh surely you know what he’s done, he’s killing off students, he thinks its good fun” was bellowed down the halls. Even that could only lift Crowley’s spirits for so long however and as the weeks dragged on he missed his Angel more and more.

In an effort to feel even a little bit helpful he had started taking in depth notes in class, even history of magic, to give to Aziraphale upon his return. Crowley knew that Aziraphale was probably already working on OWL content but it made Crowley feel useful. If the teachers had anything to say on Crowley’s new found work ethic they didn’t mention anything. He had also moved the walkie-talkie into his Slytherin Dorm room, there was really no point using the RoR when he was alone and it was becoming increasingly hard to sneak away from the teachers. 

The day had been dragging on just like the others although Crowley was relieved to hear that the petrification victims would be woken up tonight and he could finally meet with Aziraphale again. He returned to the commons after class had ended, there was really no point going to the great hall anymore. Not when most of the student population were more likely to drown him in his pumpkin juice than tolerate his presence. Crowley felt himself jump almost stumbling into one of the sofas when McGonagall’s voice echoed across the room magically amplified

‘All students to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom immediately please’

When her voice faded the commons were left in silence Crowley sharing wide-eyed stares with the rest of the Slytherins, panic bubbling. They hadn't feared Slytherins monster before. But then Penelope Clearwater was attacked. Penelope Clearwater was a pureblood. That made even the most radical blood supremacists worry. Crowley was just about to ask what was going on when Draco Malfoy burst into the commons gasping for breath. It was the most undignified he had ever seen the young heir

“it's a student” said Malfoy through gasping breaths “a student has been taken into the chambers”

Students began pouring into the commons, older Slytherins trying to keep the calm and comforting the younger snakes as the news spread. Under the original message a new one had been painted ‘her chamber will lie in the Chamber forever’ doing a quick head count Crowley determined that it was no Slytherin student that had been taken. A small mercy. The commons door slid open one last time and professor Snape stepped through the opening face set into a solemn frown

“A student, Miss Ginny Weasley, has been taken into the Chamber. The Hogwarts express will be here tomorrow to take you all home” he paused staring out at the crowd “if anyone has anything to reveal now would be the time to do it” No one so much as stirred and Snape nodded his head as if he expected it. His robes billowed as he walked out and Crowley quietly slipped away to his dormitory the solemn silence of the crowded commons suddenly feeling like too much.

Crowley didn’t know how long he spent sitting on his bed in the dark staring listlessly at the drapes. If Hogwarts closed he would be sent back to his unforgiving father indefinitely. Turning 17 had never seemed so far away. He was jolted out of his morose thoughts when the Walkie-Talkie crackled to life. Not in the mood to listen to one of Lockhart’s long winded narcissistic rants he went to flick off the volume before something stopped him-

_‘Professor we have some information for you, we think it’ll help’_

Harry Potter’s voice rang out from the machine. Crowley stared confused at the Walkie-Talkie as the voices crackled through it. What was going on?

 _‘You mean you’re running away?’_ Potter shouted incredulously and Crowley couldn’t help the sardonic snort that escaped him as he continued listening ‘ _after all that stuff you did in your books?_ ’ Surely Potter and Weasley couldn’t expect competency from Lockhart of all people

 _‘Books can be misleading_ ’ Lockhart voiced and Crowley perked up in interest even if it probably was a bad time to be thinking about his personal vendetta and he listened eagerly as Lockhart continued

‘… _my books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things_ ’ Crowley wanted to cheer

‘ _So you’ve just been taking credit for what other people have done_ ’ said Potter

 _‘Harry, Harry_ ’ Lockhart carried on and Crowley actually did cheer at Potters questions

‘ _Well I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I_ had to put a Memory Charm on them’

That took a darker turn than he had expected but Crowley wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t happy, he couldn’t believe he had essentially gotten a full confession on tape! He could send this off to Skeeter and absolutely destroy his career, that woman was vicious with a quill and-

 _‘Expelliarmus_ ’ Potter shouted and Crowley flinched back in surprise, what did he just fucking miss

 _‘What do you want me to do’_ Lockhart warbled weakly ‘ _I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do’_

 _‘You’re in luck’_ Potter spoke again and Crowley held his breath as he kept talking ‘ _we think we know where it is. And what’s inside it. I think a trip to the bathroom is in order Professor’_

With that all sound cut off from the device and Crowley was left gawping at it silently. Lockhart had just confessed. Potter had just kidnapped him to…go and rescue Weasley? They knew where the chamber was? And what was that about the bathroom? Crowley couldn’t think of any bathroom relevant to the Chamber of Secrets. Of course the threatening messages were painted right across from Moaning Myrtles’ bathroom but that was-

 _Oh_. Moaning Myrtles’ bathroom. 50 years ago when the Chamber was opened a student died but what if, what if she never _left_ , she would know where the Chamber was, where Potter and Weasley were evidently heading.

Oh _shit_

There was no time to track down a teacher and track down the two run away students. Leaping out of bed he snuck as quickly as he could out of the Slytherin Commons. It was miraculously empty, most of the students having retreated to their dorms at such a late hour. The second he was out of the commons he transformed into his snake form so he wouldn’t be easily spotted before setting off.

Finally reaching Moaning Myrtles’ bathroom he glanced about furtively before shifting back seeing that the halls were empty. Bracing himself he clenched his hand around his wand and entered the bathroom glancing around wildly at the empty space. They weren’t here, why weren’t they here?

A ghostly giggle interrupted his spiral and Crowley whipped around. Myrtle giggled again as she rose up idly floating around him

“Another visitor in the same day, aren’t I lucky?” Myrtle squealed as Crowley tried to dodge her ghostly form. Glaring at the ghost Crowley realized what she just said

“Another visitor? Myrtle where did the others go? Do you know” Crowley demanded harshly annoyed as she let out another high pitch giggle

“Oooooh yes, Harry Potter came asking about how I died, he’s so handsome isn’t he?” she squealed again. Crowley had never wanted to throttle an intangible being so much in his life.

“Where did they go?” he repeated again and Myrtle smiled, a small malicious thing and gestured vaguely over to the sinks

“They went into the chamber, Harry said if he died he’d share the toilet with me” she said gleefully but Crowley was already moving towards the sink. How was the entrance here? In the girls loo? He looked frantically before he spotted a small snake carving on one of the taps.

Oh but of course.

“Open up” Crowley hissed and the sink slowly started to move, disappearing out of sight

“You can stay too If you die, I wouldn’t mind the company” Myrtle said and she too sank out of sight as the sink exposed a rather large pipe. Large enough for someone to slide down in fact. Casting an overpowered scourgify Crowley took a deep breath before slowly lowering himself into the pipe. Not giving himself time to rethink his decision and then sending a quick prayer that he would not be joining Myrtle in her toilet, he let go.

The pipe twisted and turned, dark and damp and seemingly endless. Other pipes seemed to branch off from the main one but Crowley merely slid further faster and faster down the pipe. He had no time to scream and before he knew it the pipe had levelled out and he was dumped onto the cold stone floor of a dark tunnel. Crowley couldn’t believe he was mere feet away from the Chamber of Secrets. Not seeing the trio he was after he unsteadily clambered to his feet lighting his wand with a quick lumos. The light made the shadows look more terrifying as he moved down the tunnel desperately ignoring the crunch of small bones under his feet.

He didn’t have the luxury to panic right now.

He couldn’t have been walking long when he finally heard muttered voices, what sounded like the youngest Weasley and Lockhart

“Shut up you blithering git” Weasley’s voice echoed down the damp tunnel and Crowley let out a bark of laughter in surprise as he rounded the bend of the tunnel. Weasley’s tone changed dramatically as he brandished his spellotaped wand in front of him at Crowley

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”

Crowley immediately stepped into the light of the wand hands raised in surrender as he tried to talk down the kid

“Easy now kid, I’m here to help okay, I’m just here to help” he said complacently but Weasley still held his wand high eyes tightened in suspicion

“Are you? For all I know you could be the Heir. It takes parseltongue to get in here”

If Crowley wasn’t being held at wand point he would be proud of the kid’s suspicion but as it were

“If I was the heir I would be in the actual chamber and not out here, traipsing in the sewers and ruining my favourite boots, now tell me what’s going on kid”

It seemed that that was enough logic to appease Weasley and the kid slid down the wall of rubble that Crowley just noticed before explaining what had happened. How Lockhart had tried to attack them but Weasley’s broken wand had backfired and taken Lockhart’s memories instead which explained why the prat was a more gormless fool than usual. How the backfired spell had created an explosion and the tunnel had caved-in. Potter had gone on ahead and left Weasley to hopefully clear the rubble for when he returned. He hadn’t made much progress, not with a broken wand, and was now staring at Crowley in desperation.

Nodding his head Crowley placed a comforting arm on the younger boy’s shoulders creating a plan

“I’m going to start vanishing the rubble, I’d usually just blast through it but I don’t want to risk another cave in”

Weasley nodded in agreement before taking a step back, he looked a bit less pasty now there was someone else with him and Crowley once again found himself re-evaluating the golden trio. Most would say they were foolish but he couldn’t help but privately astonish over their bravery.

“Next time please just find a teacher” Crowley joked as he carefully began shifting the rubble

“We did” Weasley exclaimed gesturing to Lockhart who was curiously examining his own robes “Not our fault he was a bloody fraud”

Crowley grinned at that and hummed in acknowledgment before his work was interrupted again

“How did you even know we were here anyway?” Weasley asked from behind him and Crowley laughed in response before going on to explain Operation Peacock in its entirety. Hopefully that would distract the younger boy. Crowleycould only hope that Harry would come back alive.

Crowley had shifted the rubble and had long since finished detailing his misadventures revolving around Lockhart and Weasley, who had quickly become Ron, was now pacing anxiously in the tunnel. They stood in worried silence staring out into the dark tunnel.

There was nothing worse than waiting.

Then, suddenly, from the darkness of the tunnel they both heard a faint shouting

“Ron!”

The two boys looked at each other before running out to meet Potter who was shouting down the tunnel “Ron, Ginny’s OK! I’ve got her!”

From beside him Ron gave what could either have been a cheer or a cry the second he saw his little sister, immediately dragging her into a giant embrace almost smothering her as he murmured reassurances, to either himself or her Crowley couldn’t tell. Taking a break from consoling a sobbing Ginny Ron then turned to check on Potter who was busy staring defensively at Crowley in a mixture of apprehension and curiosity

“Where did that bird come from, why do you have a _sword?_ ” Ron questioned confused and Crowley almost had a heart attack when he realised Potter had Dumbledore’s phoenix on one shoulder and the actual bloody sword of Gryffindor in his hand as well as the sorting hat?

“I’ll explain all that when we get out of here” Potter paused looking at Crowley “and while you’re at it you can explain him as well”

Crowley trailed at the back of the group keeping an eye on the tunnel behind them. He figured Potter had stopped the heir but the other boy had yet to explain what had happened and Crowley didn’t want to take any chances. Specifically any basilisk sized chances. As they walked Ron had explained Crowley’s involvement in the whole plot and Potter had easily accepted the story smiling happily at Crowley as their odd group came to a stop at the long dark pipe they had travelled down.

“Have you thought about how we’re going to get back up this?” Potter asked him and Crowley could only hopelessly shrug his shoulders in response. The phoenix trilled happily swopping above their heads and coming to a stop in front of them. They all looked on at the bird dubiously

“He looks like he wants us to grab hold” Ron said perplexed “but you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there”

Crowley laughed softly “Phoenixes aren’t ordinary birds, they can carry almost anything” he explained. Potter turned quickly to the rest of them after hearing Crowley’s explanation

“We’ve got to hold onto each other, Crowley grab Ron’s hand and Ron hold Ginny’s and Professor Lockhart-

“Can’t we just leave him here” Crowley interrupted childishly shocking Ginny out of her stupor enough to laugh. Potter smiled a bit before continuing

“Lockhart will hold onto Ginny’s other hand”

As soon as everyone got into position the phoenix took off and Crowley laughed at the brilliant sensation flooding through him as they sailed up and up. Before he could even fully begin to appreciate the ride it was over- all five of them hitting the cold wet floor of Myrtle’s bathroom. The ghost had clearly not been expecting their arrival for she goggled at them as the group slowly began to straighten themselves up

“You’re alive” she said to Potter blankly. The other boy barely spared her a glance busy as he was cleaning his glasses

“There’s no need to sound so disappointed” Potter muttered as they all trooped out of the bathroom, Crowley helpfully cast a quick cleaning charm for them all.

“Where now?” Ron asked and before they could all no doubt be led to the headmaster’s office Crowley interrupted

“I hate to spring this on you now but I need to ask a favour” Crowley said haltingly, Ron and Potter both stared at him and taking their silence as permission Crowley continued “I need you to cover for me, nobody can know I was involved in any of this okay?” Crowley said imploringly

“Why the bloody hell not?” said Ron confused and Crowley shot a quick smile at the red-head before his expression grew serious

“Look Ron, Potter, I come from a staunch pureblood family, do you think they’d be happy hearing my heroic deeds? Hell do you think the Slytherins would be happy if they heard I’ve been gallivanting around with the Boy-Who-Lived? I’d be crucified so please don’t tell anyone about me being here” Crowley finished. Ron and Potter nodded consideringly although both seemed to look a bit sad at Crowley’s situation. He couldn’t blame them, he was sad about it too. Sharing a look the two boys nodded

“We won’t tell anyone Crowley we promise” Ron said fervently

“And thank you for coming after us to help, not many would do that” Potter chimed in and Crowley waved away the compliment before turning to sneak back down when Potters’ voice stopped him

“Oh and Crowley, for Merlin’s sake just call me Harry” Potter- Harry said and Crowley laughed as he turned the corner officially parting ways. He made it back to the Slytherin commons without being spotted and was more than ready to collapse into his bed when he heard a squeak from behind him. A little firstie was still awake by the fire, the one he had taught the permanent sticking charm too and hung around with that odd crew of first years, Adam.

“You didn’t see anything” Crowley told the startled eleven year old and when he got a nod of agreement he headed to his dorm collapsing heavily onto his bed.

Crowley woke up blearily swearing he had only been asleep for half an hour at best before he was shoved down the stairs with the rest of his year group. He wasn’t even given enough time to grab his glasses. The whole house had been assembled in the pyjamas. Professor Snape stood at the front thankfully not in his pyjamas but Crowley swore he saw a glimpse of slippers underneath his robes.

“The Heir of Slytherin has been defeated by our resident boy wonder” Snape snarked from the front of the room “the Headmaster has decided this calls for celebration and in all of his infinite wisdom has called us all up to the great hall for a midnight feast”

There was a look of soul deep exasperation on Snape’s face that was surely matched on Crowley’s own. He had just helped defeat the Heir of Slytherin not that anyone should know that. He just wanted to _sleep._ Snape seemed to sigh wearily and then strode out of the commons gesturing for the Slytherins to follow him. The whole house toddled after Snape in their pyjamas like lost ducklings.

What followed was possibly the oddest school Feast Crowley had ever attended. Everyone was in their pyjamas for one, even some of the professors and the feast went on well into the night. At 1am the doors burst open and the petrification victims, now unpetrified, all ran into the hall to meet with their friends. Crowley’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw Aziraphale running down to the Hufflepuff table. The blonde immediately got tackled by his friends, Diggory and Marlene Crawford practically starting a dog pile at the Hufflepuff table. It was borderline painful to not stand up right then and tackle Aziraphale himself but he couldn’t. Not here, not now.

Hagrid turned up at half past three and Crowley cheered with the rest of the school when the groundskeeper returned and even the teachers cheered when it was announced Lockhart would not be returning next year. They were all sent off to bed at 4am dazed and happy and even though Crowley would have loved nothing more than to sleep after all that had happened today he was determined to meet up with Aziraphale. Catching the blonde’s eye from the table across he raised an eyebrow in question. Aziraphale nodded eagerly and Crowley slipped away from the pack of Slytherins to head to the RoR.

Aziraphale was already in the room when Crowley got there and he didn’t waste a second pulling Aziraphale into a hug. Aziraphale let out a strangled sort of laugh and Crowley blinked back tears as he clung onto his friend, pulling away slightly he looked down into Aziraphale’s eyes

“Never do that again” Crowley threatened slightly and Aziraphale gave another choked laugh

“I’ll try not too”

The pair stayed hugging each other before Crowley slowly manoeuvred them to the sofa beginning to explain everything that Aziraphale had missed. Aziraphale laughed at Crowley’s story disbelieving. It was the most beautiful sound Crowley had ever heard.

And if Crowley’s hand never moved away from Aziraphale’s through the rest of the night, as if he were checking that Angel was really there neither of them mentioned it. Some things didn’t need to be said.

The rest of the summer term passed in a haze of sunshine, exams had been cancelled much to Crowley’s delight and Aziraphale’s disappointment. It was sometimes hard for Aziraphale, even though Hogwarts had returned to normal Aziraphale still suffered. His eyes sometimes became dry when he forgot to blink (forgot how to blink) and in those first few nights there was nothing more terrifying than the prospect of sleeping, he was afraid he would never wake up. Madam Pomfrey could do nothing for the psychological damage and so Aziraphale simply weathered the storm. Slowly he was getting back to normal and with Crowley and his friends by his side he rarely felt lost or alone.

He had just stepped into the RoR when a paper came flying at his face. Almost dropping it Aziraphale clutched it to his chest glaring at Crowley who was watering his plants on the other side of the room. Realising Crowley wasn’t going to explain why he had just accosted him with the Daily Prophet Aziraphale opened up the folded paper almost dropping it in surprise when he read the front page

‘PRINCE CHARMING OR COMMON FRUAD, THE TRUTH ABOUT LOCKHART REVEALED’

“What did you do” Aziraphale said, exasperated tone not hiding the small smile on his face. Crowley put down his watering can wandering over to the sofa and dramatically fainting back onto it

“Oh it’s like things haven’t changed at all”

“What did you do” Aziraphale repeated scanning the article

“you know” Crowley began dramatically “you always complain about what I _did_ do, I think I deserve a little credit for all the stuff I _could_ have done but didn’t” he paused slightly before continuing “but you’re right I did do something”

Aziraphale wacked him over the head with the paper. Making a faux hurt face Crowley laughed before continuing

“Miss Skeeter was quite pleased when I sent off all the evidence, sans corkboard of course” he said gesturing to the monstrosity that was still hung up on the wall. There was no longer any documents pinned up on it but the green and silver yarn still remained

“How did you get Weasley and Potter to testify?” Aziraphale asked curiously taking a seat next ot the smug Slytherin

“I gave Ron some money for a new wand, said I’d feel a lot safer if he had a proper one. From there I just mentioned the article and Harry and Ron jumped at the chance to ruin the man’s life, ruthless little gryffindors” Crowley said fondly and Aziraphale exhaled softly in disbelief.

“She was also very interested in the device we used to overhear Lockhart’s confession” he said as an after thought

Aziraphale groaned long-sufferingly in response

“I think we could get some good money out of this Angel!”

The room was filled with the sound of laughter as the pair reminisced about their fourth year at Hogwarts. 

The next day the Hogwarts express arrived to take them home.


	8. dementors should either be in azkaban or the DADA classroom, not the bloody train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale take on fifth year! Dementors, boggarts and character development

Dear Angel,

Summer holidays are dreadfully dull but remarkably pain free, my father is once again spending all of his time at the ministry and mocking Lucius Malfoy over the loss of his house elf so I suppose things could definitely be worse, how are things going on your end? Not long now until we can both bugger off and leave our rotten families behind us, when that day comes I might even try and get us into the Ritz (the magical part obviously)

I found a snake in the garden yesterday, she’s not much of a conversationalist but it’s the most company I’ll get in the family manor, none of the family portraits will talk to a disgraced heir. Not that I really want to converse with my ancestors, lunatics the lot of them. More barmy than that little knight portrait we found in the west wing of the castle, remember him?

I wish my mother had made a portrait of herself, it would be nice to have something to remember her by.

~~Knowing father he would have burnt that too~~

Hope your holidays are good,

Crowley

Dear Crowley,

My family seem to be very glad to welcome me back this year, they were distraught over the news I had been petrified and have subsequently been spending every waking moment with me over these couple of weeks which I’m sure explains the absence of my letters lately, in all honesty it’s quite strange to be doted upon, I much preferred it when I could hide away in the family library but needs must

There were talks of a marriage contract at our last family meal and I think I blushed so furiously they won’t ever bring it up again which can only be a good thing for me. I admit I took great pleasure in accidentally bringing up Gabriels liasions this Hogwarts year, simply remarkable, what things can take place in a broom closet don’t you think? 

I do hope your father is treating you right Crowley and please do not go out of your way to get into trouble

Yours,

Aziraphale

Dear Angel,

I resent that actually, I never get into trouble.

Have you heard the news about Sirius Black? I never thought anyone would get out of Azkaban, I visited a relative in their once, some barmy cousin my father felt sorry for. It was an absolutely horrible place, dreary interior design ~~I felt like I’d never be happy again.~~ And although I know Black’s a murderer I have to say I am a tiny bit impressed. If I ever saw him I’d probably let him go just for that honestly, anyone who escapes deserves to stay that way. Breaking out of Azkaban, ingenious.

Speaking of ingenious I’ve had a lot of time on my hands and have been thinking more and more about Weasley’s flying car. Interesting thing that is isn’t it? Makes me wish I could do my own tinkering but I think dear old Dad would notice if I got my hands on a car, my gramophone is already on thin ice

Be a good student and do your homework so I can copy it Angel

Crowley

Dear Crowley,

Please do not get a flying car.

Do your own homework.

(What did you think of the booklist this year? A competent defence professor may be on the horizon)

Yours,

Aziraphale

The summer dragged slowly in that last week, his parents had given up shoving pureblood etiquette down his throat and had began chastising him for not making connections in his year group. This was odd only in the fact that they had only just remembered to chastise him for not living up to the family name at the end of summer rather than the beginning.

Aziraphale was beginning to tire of his families expectations, they wanted him to become an auror, or a proper lord. They weren’t content with Aziraphale, who he was or what he wanted. Aziraphale was also not content with his family but that was something he didn’t have the moxy to examine to closely and so he buried his feelings and eagerly awaited for September 1st

His parents dropped him off at kings cross before apparating away before he even boarded the train, his father was on the Wizengamot and had an urgent trial and his mother was a healer at St Mungos. This wasn’t anything new. He still remembers what his mother had told him in his first year ‘You want me to see you off when I could be saving lives? You need to stop being so selfish Aziraphale’

Aziraphale had quickly learnt too stopped asking for things.

Boarding the train Aziraphale walked down the hall exchanging greetings to those he knew, briefly being hugged by Cedric and James before he continued on his way. His and Crowley’s apartment now had such a wealth of privacy charms, wards and notice-me-nots that they felt confident no one would discover them riding the train together anymore. He hadn’t seen Crowley since summer began and he couldn’t deny that he was excited. Pushing open the compartment door he slid in quietly smiling brilliantly as he spotted the red-head lounging across the seats

“Crowley!” he exclaimed joyfully yanking the Slytherin up so he could hug him. His crush had yet to fade but Aziraphale doggedly ignored the feelings. Repression. He was something of an expert at it. 

“Angel” Crowley greeted back fondly, resting his chin on top of Aziraphales’ head as they hugged. Aziraphale untangled himself and then sat down on the vacant seats across from Crowley. The slytherin had grown his hair out over the summer, the red hair falling past his shoulders in soft waves that weren’t present when he had it short, his glasses were tucked into his pockets giving Aziraphale a perfect view of his stunning amber eyes.

How was Aziraphale supposed to last the year with his crush looking like that?

(He wasn’t)

“So” Aziraphale said as Crowley threw his long legs over his lap leaning back against the seat “a flying car?”

Crowley immediately began ranting gesticulating wildly as he explained his thought process and tried to convince Aziraphale it was a good idea. Aziraphale let him ramble fondly allowing Crowley’s voice to sweep over him and fill the compartment.

The train chugged along swiftly blurring past countryside and rolling hills as the dark skies closed in around them and the rain hammered at the windows. Aziraphale was once again defending his homework from Crowley’s thievery batting the others hands away from his trunk when the train screeched to a slow halt. Aziraphale shared a worried glance with Crowley and they both reached for their wands seemingly having the same idea

“Why would the train stop?” Aziraphale murmured muttering a quick lumos and peering out of the window

“It can’t be anything good” said Crowley darkly brandishing his wand at the door. They waited in tense silence as a bone-chilling cold seemed to sweep down the train. The quiet seemed to stretch suffocating around them as something from beyond the door drew a rattling breath. Aziraphale felt sharp terror settle into his bones and a deep melancholy infect his veins, a feeling that he’d never be happy again. He heard sharp panicked breaths from next to him as Crowley’s hand shook with an alarming intensity. Aziraphale couldn’t even bring himself to offer comfort finding himself drowned in a wave of self-loathing. 

Suddenly the lights flickered on and whatever was behind the door let out an inhuman screech and swept away. Slowly warmth seemed to return to them and a numbing apathy replaced the wave of loathing that he had been submerged in before.

“Dementors” Crowley croaked through a shuddering breath “horrible things”

Aziraphale nodded sullenly in response reaching over and grabbing his friend’s hand rubbing soothing circles into his palm as Crowley tried to get a grip of his breathing. They spent the rest of the train ride in silence. They were off to a good start.

The news that the dementors would be guarding Hogwarts until Sirius Black was caught was not welcome. Aziraphale hated the creatures more than anything and he had left his first herbology lesson in a sullen mood as the outdoor classes were closer to where the creatures lurked. An older student had let Aziraphale know chocolate was a surprisingly good cure to the dementors effects and the hufflepuff had taken to carrying a couple of bars around with him where ever he went. And not just for him.

It seemed to be hit and miss whom the dementors affected most. The younger years didn’t seem to be effected that much but Aziraphale had seen haunted looks in the eyes of his housemates when the dementor’s effects seemed to seep into the castle grounds. It was a ridiculous idea to put those creatures near school children but Aziraphale, armed with honeydukes chocolate and spiteful pride carried on like normal.

Aziraphale didn't think he had sat through one class this week that didn’t open up with the same speech about the importance of OWL's and the increase in work load and how now 'there was no time for messing around' although Professor Snape was possibly the only teacher who had blatantly told them he expected more than eighty percent of the class to fail. The teachers had spent the first week furiously reviewing the past years content, for most classes it was going surprisingly well and Aziraphale found that for most of his core subjects he was sailing through the revision. Ancient Runes was always a bit of a struggle as he had an unfortunate tendencies to mix up the alphabets but arithmancy was a breeze. It was to the surprise of literally no one when they found the fifth years were severely lacking in the Defence course but professor Lupin took it in his stride. The bedraggled professor had confessed he couldn't recall a stable teacher when he himself attended Hogwarts. The first few lessons were dedicated to duelling, jinxes and hexes that thankfully most of the class didn't struggle with. You couldn't live in a magical boarding school with no knowledge of defence, you had to be at least sub-par to even make it through the halls.

Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were actually sharing quite a few classes this year and even though his and Crowley's friendship still remained a secret that did nothing to deter the red head from making obnoxious silly faces at him from across the classroom and Aziraphale knew for a fact that the other day the slytherin had non verbally transfigured his teacup into a duck instead of the woodpecker McGonagall had been asking for.

Now that had been hard to explain.

They were currently sat in the defence classroom waiting for professor Lupin, Cedric was sat beside him seven minutes into his 'why I love Cho Chang rant' which Aziraphale was guiltily blanking in favour of watching Crowley miserably trying to enchant an origami bird to fly. It was ten minutes into Cedric's rant when professor Lupin strode in happily greeting the class

"Wands out everybody, follow me" he exclaimed cheerfully as the class confusedly followed him out of the door like a line of befuddled ducklings as they headed for the staff room

"Now I had a third year class earlier today and I figured it would be a waste to not let you lot have a go as well" Lupin explained vaguely as he ushered them into the room which was empty barring an ominously rattling wardrobe. Lupin closed the door behind him and meandered to the centre of the room next to the wardrobe

"Can anybody tell me what's in here? Mr Diggory?"

"A boggart sir" Cedric answered nervously as the rest of the class shuffled back a few more steps.

"Excellent!" Lupin exclaimed jovially sounding far too happy for what he was about to make them face.

Boggarts were good practice for younger students, it gave them confidence when it came to dealing with dark creatures and of course it was useful knowledge but teachers tended to leave boggarts behind the older students got. The older you get the less trivial your fears become so as Lupin ran through the charm with everyone Aziraphale couldn't help the worried fear that flooded through him.

This really wouldn't be ending well.

They lined up as Lupin released the boggart, some fears were trivial, spiders, snakes, but not many. A hufflepuff in his year faced a limping inferi. Others faced the dark mark, hanging in front of them, a victory and omen. One girl turned hers into a balloon. Another gave the skull a bright coloured afro but they walked away paler and more jaded than when they began. A couple of pureblood Slytherin girls stared at a reflection of themselves, wrinkled and greying either a spinster with no kids or a married wife with too many and hollowed eyes. It was a grim in look into their lives. Childhood innocence had nothing to give to children of war. And that’s what they all were really. Old enough to remember the fear that clung to their parents. Young enough to see the warning signs and do nothing about it. Eventually the line shuffled along and Aziraphale had stumbled to the front wand in front of him and incantation on his lips.

The boggart paused in front of him before slowly shifting taking the form of the family tapestry, the thin intricate gold lines mapping out his family tree. The only difference between the boggart tapestry and the one at home was that the boggart clearly showed Aziraphale's name blasted off, the only thing remaining of his spot on the tree was a charred black spot.

It was no surprise that his greatest fear would be his fall from grace.

Muttering the spell he watched as Gabriel's face on the tapestry took on a badly drawn moustache and monocle. It didn't make him laugh but it did the job. He went and joined the rest of his shaken classmates at the side of the wall feeling more embittered than he had at the start of the class.

There were less people in the line now and Aziraphale watched with barely supressed worry as Crowley reluctantly shuffled to the front of the line. The boggart shifted slowly, almost as if it were confused before finally forming into the shape of a woman who could only be Crowley's mother. She had fiery red hair, much like Crowley's and kind brown eyes. Crowley didn't react to the visage in front of him, just stood staring expectantly as if the boggart wasn't done yet.

"Let’s run away Crowley" the boggart spoke through the body of Crowley's mother, holding out a deceivingly welcoming hand. The fingers were just a bit too long, a bit too inhuman to be normal. Crowley still did nothing, stood waiting as he elegantly spun his wand. The boggart spoke again but after once again meeting Crowley's silence it began to choke, coughing up bright scarlet blood and between rasping breaths muttered Crowley's name

'Anthony, Anthony won't you help me'

It was at this point Crowley swished his wand muttering a ridikulus and Aziraphale sighed in relief that his friends torture had ended.

But instead of jolting back the boggart simply switched forms again taking the form of Crowley's father threateningly brandishing his wand

'You’ll pay for that boy'

A scene out of Crowley's nightmares, Crowley refused to spend any more time it seemed and spoke the incantation again harshly. The boggart practically cackled and instead took a different form, it was only there for a second before Crowley bellowed the spell, the boggart exploding under his vehemence.

No one else had probably seen it.

But Aziraphale knew that the boggart had tried to shift into an unnerving doppelganger of himself.

The class was subdued as they tracked back to the class to pack and head to dinner. Professor Lupin tried to hold Crowley back to talk about his failed Ridikulus but the slytherin dismissed him harshly. Aziraphale pretended to faff with his supplies as everyone else slowly trickled out of the class until only he and Crowley were left.

"I think we need to talk don't you?"

Crowley didn’t verbally respond but inclined his head in reluctant agreement as the two set off in a tense silent walk towards the RoR. The room had only given them a sofa today, the usual cosy armchairs nowhere in sight. Taking the hint for what it was Aziraphale moved them over to the sofa sitting down next to Crowley and took the red-heads hand in his.

His and Crowley’s was not an easy friendship, they argued a lot and the secrecy was problematic and some fundamental part of them seemed to differ and yet time after time they always got through it. Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever stop learning about Crowley, about what made him tick, but he was also a steady constant in his life and he couldn’t imagine his time at Hogwarts without him. So whenever Crowley got like this Aziraphale sat quietly next to him and waited until Crowley was willing to speak.

“My father has never been the sanest, crazy is a hereditary trait in my line but it seemed to have skipped me, I’m not like the rest of them and my parents knew it. My father wanted to raise a junior death eater not a son and my mother knew I wouldn’t last”

“And so you tried to run away” Aziraphale murmured recalling the Boggart’s words. Crowley nodded in confirmation eyes shining wetly in the firelight

“Except we never got to running part, my father found out and poisoned her at the dining table the night we planned our escape. She died calling my name”

“It’s why I go by Crowley, Anthony just- reminds me of her” Crowley blinked furiously and swallowed the lump in his throat to carry on, his words choked.

“That’s what you get for being nice boy, _nice_ has no place here” Crowley haltingly spoke words that did not sound like his own. He kept his gaze on the fire and looked dethatched from the story he was telling Aziraphale, like he was somewhere else entirely, lost to his memories.

“That’s what my father said when he walked away” he finished. The meltdown Crowley had had that year he stayed for Christmas suddenly made a lot more sickening sense.

“After that things just spiralled, I started acting out, my father’s punishments became more harsh, the ministry have no child laws because we’re still living in the 1800’s and no-one cares about a pureblood heir who can’t learn a lesson” The words were spilling out of Crowley now bitter and jaded and desperate but Aziraphale simply kept his hand on top of Crowley’s. A small steady measure of comfort as his best friend unravelled in front of him and something heavy settled in his stomach the more he heard of Crowley’s suffering.

“It was easy to sneak out so I started hanging around with some muggle kids and it was fine, fun even, until he find out” Crowley gripped his hand to a near painful degree as he carried on “he decided his punishment needed to befit my _fall from grace_ ” 

Aziraphale didn’t know how long they sat in silence, Crowley absently fiddling with Aziraphale’s fingers until Aziraphale spoke

“Why was I your boggart Crowley?”

He felt more than saw the shuddering breath Crowley took beside him

“I just, I kept thinking-

Aziraphale saw how much he was struggling to choke out the words, a confession caught on his lips, and gave his hand a comforting squeeze

“I just thought if I hadn’t met you then who would I even be? And then I knew that without you I’d probably not even be here”

Crowley turned to face him and his eyes were so intense, so earnest, that Aziraphale didn’t think he could look away from him if he wanted too

“You’re everything I _am_ Aziraphale. I don’t know what I’d be without you and that scares me” Crowley freely admitted and Aziraphale felt stunned. It was sometimes easy to think of Crowley as, well, simple. He was laid-back and mischievous and a bit of a ditz, he preened at attention and danced through life and it was so easy to forget he was so much _more._ He had moments of cunning and ruthlessness and here, now, he was looking at Aziraphale like he had hung the sun and words of devotion were dripping from his tongue.

Aziraphale felt a surge of emotion rush through him and impulsively flung his arms around Crowley, the pair of them clinging to each other through muffled sobs and murmured comforts. They spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s embrace. Aziraphale tightened his grip around the dozing red-head and desperately tried to bury the thought of how easy it would have been to have kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! lemme know what you think, I was going to make these chapters longer but I just felt right ending it there, our babes do not have good parents but they have each other so they'll be okay (probably) :p


	9. Crowley is not the only one who knows how to bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the christmas term is closing and Crowley gets up to his usual bouts of mischief, oh and Aziraphale experinces, not quite his first but defintely not his last, gay panic

October arrived faster than anyone would have thought, the leaves turning a burnt amber and dropping to the ground. The professors had set a punishing pace of classwork and Crowley was sure one of these days someone would find him dead face down in a cauldron what with how much extra work he had been doing. And that was without factoring his breakdown over the boggart which thankfully none of his Slytherin year mates had mentioned. Usually any weakness in the house was pounced on and Crowley was suspiciously thankful that he had been left. Although he thinks it might have something to do with the steady pile of chocolate he supplied the house with to counteract the effects of the dementors. Even though the commons were situated under the lake the dementor induced melancholy seemed to seep through the castle walls. He had spent a lot of nights comforting the younger students, although not through choice.

He always stayed up late in the common room finishing last minute essays. He always did his best thinking when he was sleep deprived and downing coffee the gallon but that also meant he was often around when the younger students were upset. He had his own little snakes now who came to him for help. The older years joked about it but he knew even they were surprised when Draco Malfoy came up to him one day and handed him a collection of some of the finest French pastries in thanks. He had comforted the kid one too many times be it from nightmares of his own insecurity and it was heart-warming to know the little pompous brat was actually grateful. He had promptly shared the confections with Aziraphale later that night who knew better than to ask where they came from.

But even October seemed to fly by and before anyone even realised Halloween was on the horizon. The castle was swept up in the festivities as armour began to move places, bats were hung from the ceiling and Flitwick had even charmed some jack ‘o’ lanterns to bounce merrily around the room. Crowley wasn’t the best at charms but he had immediately begged a seventh year to help him and soon the Slytherin commons also became home to the floating twinkling jack ‘o’ lanterns. Although it wasn’t just the aesthetic of the festivities that had Crowley excited. His betting pool from last year had truly taken off. The entire Slytherin house was involved. Not many were betting that nothing ‘spooky’ would happen, it was inevitable at this point, but the odds had expanded to other variables. Would it happen during the feast like the troll? Or after like the chamber? Would harry be involved? (Although Crowley made a conscious effort to call him Potter when others were around) Or perhaps it would be something to do with the defence teacher?

Crowley had been taking last minute bets in the commons when Snape swept in. The whole room froze and many tried to hide galleons behind their backs in a futile effort to not be spotted. Snape ran his eyes over the list of bets and snorted before looking at Crowley. Crowley kept his head high but inside he was shaking, their head of house always looked out for them but by Merlin he was terrifying.

“5 galleons on Sirius Black somehow being involved”

The stupefied silence only lasted until the professor strode out of the dungeons before everyone burst into a cacophony of shouts and laughter. Crowley wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Fortunately, at least for some of them, the feast ran smoothly and as they were all ushered back into the common rooms happily dazed and sleepy from the feast. It couldn’t have even been ten minutes later when professor Snape burst into the room pale and angry. He barked orders at prefects to escort everyone to the great hall to join the rest of the student body.

Sirius Black had broken into the castle.

They were subdued and wary as they made their way to the great hall and listened in barely disguised contempt as Dumbledore delivered his speech about staying in the great hall for the night. Crowley, oddly enough, was not comforted by the news that a crazed murderer had broken in and they had yet to even find him.

Grumpily climbing into his sleeping bag he looked discreetly around the hall until he caught Aziraphale’s eye. He rose and eyebrow in question as he folded up his sunglasses and placed them beside him and Aziraphale shot a sunny smile back conveying that he was okay. Crowley looked around the hall again itching to put his glasses back on and cover his eyes. He knew most of the students had seen them thanks to the Chamber fiasco last year but he still felt uncomfortable revealing himself to their judgemental stares. He almost gave up scanning the hall until he spotted Harry staring back at him, there was no point being discrete with Gryffindors so Crowley simply mouthed ‘are you okay’ across the hall. Harry grinned in response even if it was a bit subdued and gave him a thumbs up back. Crowley shook his head in amusement before finally burrowing into his sleeping back wondering when he became the mother for what felt like half of Hogwarts.

The next day had them all stumbling back to their commons bleary eyed and sleep deprived. Crowley knew he was not the only one who suffered from nightmares and would have been unwilling to fall asleep next to the entire student population without even a silencing charm. He told Draco who was looking suspiciously pale to wait in the commons as he went to grab his stash of pepper-up potions. Although they were supposed to help with flu Crowley found if you were particularly sleep deprived it gave you the extra kick to get through the day. He had just shoved some extras in his robe pocket for anyone that might need one when he noticed a piece of parchment pinned to his door. ‘I will be taking my prize money’ was scrawled across it in spidery handwriting. Crowley barked a laugh and strolled down the stairs to the common room tossing the potions as he went making sure he had Snape’s prize money before he left.

~

November, unlike October, was dragging its feet. The professors were setting the same amount of ruthless work but Aziraphale could feel the motivation he had at the start of the year drain from him with every assignment he turned in. He knew Crowley was having a similar problem but the other boy also had no interest in academics so sub-standard essays didn’t irritate him in the way they did Aziraphale. It wasn’t like the content was particularly hard but there was just so much of it that he sometimes felt overwhelmed. Plus he hadn’t been sleeping well. Although the rest of the student populous had carried on like normal after last year’s attack Aziraphale still struggled sometimes. It was hard to close his eyes when he was scared he wouldn’t wake up, that he’d be trapped in his mind again for months.

Yawning quietly he made his way down the draughty Hogwarts halls. He was on a free period now and had just lied to Cedric about forgetting a book in the library so he could sneak into the RoR. He loved his house-mates but sometimes Aziraphale could only take solace in silence. He had curled up into his plush armchair next to the fireplace and cracked open another book on mind magicks. Over the summer holidays he had scoured his family library for any mention on how to deal with mental illness and he had found absolutely nothing. The only possible avenue he had left alone until this point was actual mind magic such as occlumency but he doubted his answer would be found there either. It was just that a ridiculous number of people at Hogwarts were suffering from anxiety, or perhaps it was just the OWL and NEWT students, but beyond getting a calming draught from Madam Pomfrey there was nothing. And of course no-one wanted to be overly dependent on potions and so they suffered silently. It was once again having to comfort Cedric as he panicked over disappointing his father that had thrown Aziraphale back into his research. He was just about to crack open another book when his peace was interrupted by the door slamming open.

Crowley practically sashayed through the door and came to a halt in the middle of the room. Aziraphale almost had a heart attack.

For Crowley was not wearing the uniform which he already didn’t even war correctly but had replaced it entirely. He was wearing a loose black cropped top with a red ruffled skirt and some ridiculous knee high leather boots and Aziraphale wanted to scream. How, how dare he? Aziraphale could feel his face growing steadily redder as he took in the sight of Crowley with his hair in a messy bun and striking a pose in a skirt that should be _illegal_ and oh _merlin_ he should be saying something shouldn’t he? Had he been staring for so long? He had to say something otherwise it would be weird-

“That’s, that’s not the uniform” Aziraphale spluttered out.

Nailed it.

Crowley smiled dangerously and walked closer to him which shouldn’t be allowed and- was he wearing make-up? Why couldn’t Aziraphale look away from his lips?

“We were studying muggle fashion in muggle studies” Crowley offered up an explanation before he twirled and struck a pose in front of Aziraphale exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes

“I- I don’t think men are supposed to wear” Here Aziraphale waved his hand in Crowley’s general direction trying to encompass his entire being “that Crowley”

“And” Crowley deadpanned moving closer “Are you saying I don’t look good Angel?” Crowley gasped in mock offence “I could always try something else on for you” he leered suggestively wiggling his eyebrows and Aziraphale felt like he was about to combust. He just had to play it cool, pretend everything was normal and Crowley didn’t look like he had stepped out of an ~~incredibly sexy~~ nightmare.

“No!” Aziraphale practically shouted backing away from Crowley who followed him step by step “that, that won’t be necessary my dear” he spoke hurriedly as the warning bells rang in his head when Crowley smiled impishly

“In fact I just remembered I have a meeting with Cedric so I’m afraid I’m going to have to gay- I mean _Go!_ I meant go” Aziraphale was still wildly stuttering over excuses as he slipped out of the room face furiously burning.

Yep.

 _Completely normal_.

~

Crowley watched incredibly amused as Aziraphale stumbled out of the room flustered beyond belief.

Crowley could admit that maybe this time he’d gone a bit too far. In fairness his original intention was just too fluster the other boy and _not_ make him spontaneously combust.

But Crowley had been waiting _so long_ for Aziraphale to notice him, how much longer could he last with an oblivious Aziraphale bumbling around calling him _dear_ and _hugging him_ and generally looking so damn kissable that it was unfair. No one who looked at Crowley would assume that the boy was the type to fall fast and hard but here he was. 16 and pining after the same boy he had had a crush on since he was twelve.

Crowley had it all under control. Truly.

He probably shouldn’t wear anymore miniskirts around the blonde though.

~

Crowley was well known for his conspiracy theories. He had the Halloween betting pool of course but he also had many others each crazier than the last, last year he even started a rumour that Dumbledore himself was the heir of Slytherin. And with the break-in of Sirius Black he had a lot more material. It was to his great happiness when he heard a group of Hufflepuffs talking about how Sirius Black disguised himself as a plant pot to sneak past the dementors.

But none of these instances were odder than the case of Hermionie Granger. Last week he had accidentally bumped into Hermionie in the muggle studies corridor and had to help her gather her veritable mountain of books. He had mentioned it to Aziraphale off-handedly later that day who looked at him confused.

“That can’t be possible, I distinctly remember seeing Hermionie near the arithmancy classroom when you were in muggle studies” he said.

Crowley frowned in confusion but decided to leave it alone. That was until a similar occurrence happened days later. And then again after that.

“I just don’t understand” Crowley burst out one day after seeing Hermionie walk into an abandoned classroom and seemingly disappear all together.

“I’m sure it’s nothing dear” Aziraphale said distractedly not caring about Crowley’s plight.

“You know what this means” said Crowley rising to his feet

“Please don’t say Cork board ti-

“It’s cork board time!” Crowley cheered ignoring Angel’s groan behind him. The cork board was great.

As November disappeared Crowley didn’t let up his investigation and decided to expand his sources. He was waiting near the Gryffindor tower behind a tapestry of a rather ugly looking cat. He had been standing there for near ten minutes now waiting for Harry and Ron to walk past as they always did after their DADA lesson (Crowley wasn’t stalking them, he was researching, there’s a difference) He let out a heavy sigh as he continued to wait bored for his chosen victims to arrive.

“Scabbers is bloody terrified Harry, I’m telling you it’s that-

The rest of Ron’s sentence was cut off as the boys squeaked when they were dragged behind the tapestry. Harry fought against his unknown assailant and Ron let out a colourful string of swear words that was actually quite impressive

“Harry it’s me Crowley can you please stop trying to break my ribs” Crowley hissed out as Harry finally stopped struggling. Crowley muttered a hasty Lumos and was met with two unimpressed glares from Ron and Harry

“Okay so kidnapping you, not my best idea, but I do have a question”

Harry gawped uselessly for a few moments and it was Ron who recovered his wits first seemingly used to being man handled into strange and unusual situations.

“What did you want to ask?” said Ron curiously as Harry finally got himself under control.

“Do you know what subjects Hermionie takes?” Crowley asked straight to the point.

The two boys shared confused glances at that and looked very much like they wanted to ask why but decided against it. It warmed his heart to know they were already used to his erratic idiosyncrasies.

“She’s taking all of them, bloody mad” Ron commented pale face scrunched into a look of disgust. Crowley nodded, he had expected something like that

“And you wouldn’t happen to know how she’s getting around would you?”

The two boys had nothing to say to that and shrugged uselessly. This also confirmed another of his suspicion’s, whatever she was doing had to be highly top-secret or nothing would stop her from sharing it. That narrowed down the possibilities. And Angel said his cork board was useless.

Crowley nodded to himself happily pushing the tapestry aside to leave the two Gryffindor’s.

“Oh!” Crowley exclaimed and whipped around as Harry and Ron climbed out of the tapestry shaking their heads in bemusement.

“Are you ever going to do anything with the basilisk in the chamber of secrets?” Crowley said staring at Harry. Harry had never lost his confused expression throughout their entire interaction but he somehow looked even more baffled now.

“I mean I wasn’t planning on it?” said Harry slowly

“Could I have it?” Crowley pleaded rocking back and forth on his heels and looking imploringly at Harry.

“Go for it” Harry said a bemused grin pulling at his lips. Crowley cheered happily and ran off to tell Aziraphale the good news, well good news for him.

“Bloody mad that one” Ron said to Harry as they watched him run down the corridor.

“Mad but Brilliant” Harry responded as they turned to head back to the Gryffindor commons. Hogwarts would lose its appeal if its occupants started acting normal.

~

Like clockwork Aziraphale had gone home for Christmas break leaving Crowley to his own devices. He would usually spend this time training the younger years in the art of mischief but this year not many people had chosen to stay at Hogwarts. In fact Crowley was sure that there were only 7 students left. Crowley didn’t want to admit that he was lonely but pinning knew theories onto the RoR cork-board really wasn’t the same without Aziraphale’s judgmental glares.

He had finished all his homework a week into the break which proved how bored Crowley had truly come. It was Christmas Eve and Crowley had just delivered his last present, a small glass paperweight in the shape of a tabby cat he had created himself for professor McGonagall. He wandered through the empty castle all night marvelling at icicles and fairy lights and the strings of tinsel strung up where ever he wandered. It was odd to think in a few years he would be leaving behind the only home he had ever known.

On Christmas morning Crowley woke to a small bundle of presents at the foot of his bed. He had gotten quite a few boxes of sweets from the younger years (his children) and he sets aside half of that pile for Aziraphale. Angel has sent him some rare plant seeds which Crowley honestly can’t wait to start planting and a mirror which confuses him until he reads the parchment pinned to it.

_Your stupid walkie-talkies gave me the idea, their two way mirrors. Give me a call later!_

Crowley doesn’t blush over that.

He doesn’t.

The Christmas meal this year was possibly one of the oddest feasts Crowley had ever attended, including the pyjama party at the end of last year. The four house tables had been banished and in its place sat a small round table in the middle of the hall that their professors sat around. It seemed Crowley was the last to arrive, Draco was already there, an empty seat between him and Harry, Ron and Hermionie presumably saved for him.

“Merry Christmas” Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully as Crowley sat down in the seat already planning on telling Aziraphale the entirety of this awkward meal later that night.

“It seemed foolish to use the house tables when there are so few of us” Dumbledore explained before bullying Snape into pulling a cracker as everyone tucked into the food that had appeared In front of them. The cracker went off with a loud bang revealing a pointed hat topped with a stuffed vulture. Crowley didn’t even try and stifle the laughter like Harry and Ron. The tale of Longbottoms boggart had graced the ears of every Hogwarts inhabitant over the past few weeks.

Snape glared at Crowley from across the table as he traded the hat with Dumbledore

“You tell anyone about this I will not hesitate to reveal you’re ‘extra-curricular’ activities to everyone” he threatened mildly. Harry and Ron snorted in unison beside him knowing full well what kind of things Crowley got up to. For a moment Snape looked like he wanted to ask how Crowley knew the two Gryffindor’s but decided against it which was probably best for everyone.

The somewhat peaceful atmosphere, as peaceful as one could get with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy sat within hearing distance of each other, was disrupted when the batty divination professor entered the hall. Crowley had never seen anything more wonderful than Professor McGonagall and Trelawney descend into a verbal sparring match at the dining table.

“I frequently act as though I don’t possess the Inner Eye so I don’t effect the present”

Probably seeing McGonagall prepare to release another volley of insults Snape interrupted

“Speaking of, I assume we were all visited by the ghost of Christmas Present today” he spoke dryly not moving his gaze away from Crowley who prompty engaged in a game of footsie with Draco beside him. The professor’s immediately dissolved into another argument becoming steadily more sloshed as the night went on.

Crowley was the last student left in the hall at this point, the other students had cleared out the second McGonagall opened up another bottle of brandy but Crowley knew he was never going to see this again. If he had left early he would never have learnt that the professors also have a betting pool and were currently swapping galleons on if Draco and Harry would ever get together. It was with a heavy heart he decided to leave the table in favour of calling Aziraphale with their new mirrors when he heard Snape speak behind him

“Be careful you don’t _snake_ your way into trouble now Crowley” he drawled. Crowley would have just put the pun down to him being a Slytherin but the way McGonagall and Dumbledore burst into raucous laughter behind him made him question. Did they- did they know about his animagus form?

Crowley felt his step falter and he turned to look at the teachers.

“Slither along now Mr Crowley” Dumbledore said merrily stupid blue eyes twinkling.

By Merlin they _knew_.

Crowley had never left the hall as fast.

Aziraphale was not going to believe this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of bordering on crack fluff this chapter, very indulgent of me I know, I swear there's an actual plot here somewhere okay, I promise  
> once again thank you for reading! the support I get for this story is honestly so heart-warming so I hope this chapter at least brought a smile to your face


	10. conspiracies and heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> their fifth year at Hogwarts is ending and Aziraphale and Crowley finally reach their breaking point

When Aziraphale came back from the Christmas holidays it was to the news that Hermione Granger had either accidentally duplicated herself in an experiment gone wrong or she was actually a teenage time traveller who used her powers to be a supreme swot.

Aziraphale set the cork board on fire.

January was shaping up to be quite a stressful month, his parents wanted him to get top grades in all of his subjects and his professors refused to go one lesson without mentioning their upcoming OWLs and how they’ll shape their future. Aziraphale was smart, he knew he was, but that didn’t stop him from almost crying as he tried to memorise the twenty four uses of moonstone. They really put too much useless stuff on the curriculum and Aziraphale was the one who had to suffer from it. His flashcards still had the tear stains as proof.

He had tried to relax with a hot chocolate in the room of requirement but he was simply far too restless to sit still. He had no idea what Crowley was doing. It was a Thursday so he could either be mothering the younger Slytherins, stalking Hermione Granger or, well, it was better not to think about what else he actually got up too.

Aziraphale wandered down by the black lake, it was still chilly out and there was a thin film of frost over the water but Aziraphale didn’t mind the cold. It just meant he wouldn’t be disturbed by other students. He finally reached a spot by the lake that was obscured from the view of the castle by the trees and sat down leaning against the tree trunk. He stayed there for a while listening to the soft lapping of the lake on the shore and felt himself relax bit by bit.

He breathed in the sharp cool air for a few moments and then slowly exhaled as he took out his wand

“expecto patronum” he murmured and watched as a few wisps of silvery mist escaped his wand. Patronuses, patroni? Were used to dispel the dementors effects, a pure magical force built on calm and joy but nowhere near the mood altering effects of cheering charms and calming droughts. It was the closest thing he had found in regards to magic to help with mental illness. Of course Aziraphale couldn’t actually test the effects of the charm until he could cast it.

He had no idea what he would do with the information. He doubted it would actually be much help in regards to what he was searching for but now Aziraphale just wanted to cast the charm to see if he could do it. He had been practicing for almost a month now and he was determined to cast it.

Focusing on his happy memory he cast the charm again this time a vague wispy figure being produced, some form of rodent maybe? A badger?

A rustle from the trees distracted him and Aziraphale instantly stood up wand in front of him. You never knew what kind of creatures lived in the forbidden forest. The rustling sound was closer now and Aziraphale took a step back just as the creature broke through the trees.

It was a…dog?

It was a large dog with dark shaggy fur, it cut an imposing figure but it didn’t seem threatening. Instead it yipped softly and plonked itself down next to the spot Aziraphale was occupying seemingly saying ‘well, get back to it then’

Aziraphale studied the dog for a moment before sitting back down. Under the dogs stare he cast the charm again thinking about the time he had first seen in Hogwarts all those years ago. This time when he uttered the words a silvery animal appeared and Aziraphale laughed happily as it did laps around him. It looked like some form of ferret or weasel and Aziraphale resolved too look it up later.

The dog let out a happy bark as his patronus flew past it seemingly cheering him on. Aziraphale laughed again as his patronus slowly faded away feeling giddiness rush through his veins. He couldn’t wait, he was going to look it up right away. He stood up to move back to the castle but was stopped by the dogs questioning whine.

Aziraphale turned to face the dog studying it curiously

“I wouldn’t come round here again, I’m not the only one who knows about this place and I doubt anyone else would be as kind” Aziraphale told it seriously meeting it’s too intelligent eyes. The dog almost nodded in response and moved too slink back into the woods. Without thinking too deeply about it Aziraphale cast his patronus to follow it until it found a safe place from the dementors lurking on the grounds.

He had seen Crowley transform enough times to know that that dog was not a normal dog.

But it also wasn’t his problem.

Apparently his patronus was a Pine Marten and Crowley had teased him relentlessly for having such a cute patronus expressing his surprise over him not having a swan so he would have a bastard patronus to match his bastard soul.

He had taken great pleasure in pushing Crowley off of the sofa.

Things had been calm for a while but calm could never last around Crowley. So at the start of February Aziraphale walks into the RoR to find a new corkboard replacing the ‘Hermione Granger Is a Time Traveller’ one.

“What is it this time dear?” Aziraphale asks tiredly sitting on the sofa as he watches Crowley string up more and more multi coloured thread.

“This!” Crowley exclaims pointing directly to the middle of the board where a photograph of professor Lupin is pinned

“Where did you get that photo?” Aziraphale asks exasperatedly. He’s so tired.

“That’s not important Angel, what is important is that at the same time every month he falls ill and completely disappears” Crowley explains looking towards him with a mad glint in his eyes

“There you go, you’ve solved it. He’s ill” Aziraphale says completely monotone and groans when Crowley interjects raising his eyebrows

“Or he’s actually Sirius black and the real Professor Lupin is being stored somewhere for Black to restock his polyjuice once a month”

“In what situation would that ever-

“Or! Professor Snape and Professor Lupin are secretly together and sneak away once a month for some alone time”

Aziraphale muffled his scream into a pillow

“Or” Crowley says loudly jabbing his finger to the right side of the cork board where the lunar calendar is placed

“He’s a werewolf”

Crowley stands there looking far too pleased with himself. How could Aziraphale have a crush on such an absolute moron?

“Or maybe he’s just ill Crowley-

“He’s a _werewolf-_

Aziraphale doesn’t want to admit he did anything as childish as start a pillow fight.

But if he had he had certainly won it.

~

Sirius Black breaking in to Gryffindor tower, although a scary event was not the scariest thing to happen to Aziraphale this break. No that dubious pleasure went to careers meeting. Professor Sprout was sat across from him, cacti were stacked across her desk each in a more ridiculously painted pot than the next and Aziraphale would willingly bet his Shakespeare collection on them all being gifts from Crowley.

“So what career are you thinking of pursuing Aziraphale?” she asks warmly pushing a mug of hot cocoa towards him. Aziraphale fiddled with his sleeve before reaching over to grab the mug

“Well, I’ll graduate Hogwarts and start practicing the law to follow the family legacy” Aziraphale recited but even he could hear how his words fell flat. Professor Sprout just kept staring at him clearly waiting for a different answer

“Well I have always liked the idea of owning my own book store or, or maybe being a mind healer?” Aziraphale says tentatively and watches in bemusement as his head of house immediately begins shuffling through a giant pile of glossy pamphlets on the chaotic mess of her desk.

“I’m sure you would be a good law wizard Aziraphale but I also know you would be excellent at anything you put your mind too, as long as it’s something _you_ want to do”

He thanked professor Sprout warmly and tucked the pamphlets in his bag.

Her words were kind but at the end of the day he was a Fell.

The family legacy would always be the most important thing to him.

He wondered if Crowley’s careers meeting had gone any better. Knowing him he had probably spent most of the meeting giving professor Snape a headache.

~

“It’s a simple question Mr Crowley and I have yet to hear an answer, what future path ways have you considered” Snape asked again tiredly as Crowley rocked back and forth on his chair

“I mean I am an heir, I could go into politics and not have to work a day of my life” Crowley says pleasantly and stifled a laugh and Snape groaned quietly

“Please for the love of lady magic don’t go into politics”

Crowley nods in agreement, he had never been interested in politics anyway. Far too much work.

“I know you are quite inventive, you could begin selling your own products”

Crowley shrugs non-committedly. They had been in this meeting for twenty minutes now and Snape truly was grasping at straws. Crowley didn’t have a plan, he didn’t really want one. What was the point in planning when the best things in his life had been accidents?

“What’s that Hufflepuff friend of yours doing?”

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asks confused as Snape nods looking like he hated himself for knowing anything about Crowley’s albeit lacking social life.

“well, he thinks he wants to go into law but I know he actually really wants to open up his own bookstore even though he’d barely part with enough books to make a profit”

It was the most animated Crowley had been in the entire discussion

“And nothing like that appeals to you?” said Snape. Crowley shook his head and guffawed when Snape actually face palmed

“Don’t worry professor” Crowley said as he stood up making his way to the door “I’ll have it all worked out soon, you’ll see”

“That’s what I’m afraid of” Snape muttered as Crowley left and he barked a laugh.

He didn’t know why Snape was so worried, everything always worked out for him in the end.

~

It was now late April and the stress of everything was really getting to Aziraphale. Exams were an ever looming presence and his crush on Crowley had yet to fade. In fact it seemed the more time Aziraphale spent around Crowley the more he could feel himself approaching his breaking point.

Aziraphale was walking towards the Hufflepuff Common Room when he heard the sound of muffled cries coming from down the corridor. Frowning in worry Aziraphale turned the corner just to see Hermione Granger curled up on one of the window sills silently crying to herself in the previously abandoned corridor.

Now Aziraphale would be the first to admit he wasn’t the best at comforting people but he couldn’t just, leave her there. Walking closer to the crying girl Aziraphale scuffed his feet on the floor to let her know he was there.

Hermione lifted her head up, bushy hair bouncing with the moment and appeared to try and get her tears under control as she looked up at him. Aziraphale smiled softly and took a seat at the opposite end of the window sill taking a moment to look over the castle grounds

“Hello dear, its Hermionie right?” Aziraphale asked and Hermione nodded through her sniffles

“Now I know we’ve just met but I think the best way to start a friendship is by telling each other your troubles” Aziraphale prattled on and turned to face Hermione whose eyes were looking suspiciously glassy

“Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Aziraphale asked and watched in worried confusion when Hermione promptly dissolved into tears once again. The girl began telling Aziraphale about how she was drowning in all her work because she thought she could take all the modules and that she was meant to be _smart_ but it just felt like she was constantly failing. She then went onto say how her best friends had been ignoring her since January because Weasley thought her cat had murdered his rat and wouldn’t stop shouting at her about it. And that Potter had received a present of an unknown person at Yule but when Hermione reported it fearing Sirius Black he had shunned her for it.

Aziraphale leant over and wrapped the distraught girl in a hug, he literally couldn’t stop himself. Hermione’s sobs slowly stuttered to a halt and Aziraphale conjured up a handkerchief so she could dry her tears

“Now listen to me Hermione, you can’t have attended this school for the past three years without hearing your exploits and I can say without a doubt you are the brightest witch of your age. And you don’t have to prove that to anyone, you don’t have to drown yourself in mountains and mountains of school work to prove yourself to be book-smart. Everyone who matters already knows that, it’s time you did as well” Aziraphale lectured telling Hermione what he told Cedric time and time again.

“and as for those friends of yours I will be the first to tell you that boys are idiots” Aziraphale said with so much vehemence that it startled a laugh out of Hermione which was a giant improvement over the tears she had been in earlier. Of course the boy Aziraphale was thinking of was a whole different brand of idiot but Hermione didn’t know that

“They’ve probably already realised they’ve been idiots and are coming up with an embarrassing apology as we speak” Aziraphale declared slipping off the window sill and holding his hand out to Hermionie to help her down as well.

“Now we’re going to go to the kitchens where I will get you the nicest hot chocolate you’ve ever had before we drop you off at the Gryffindor commons”

Hermione looked like she wanted to protest for a minute before she nodded shyly

“I’d like that”

Aziraphale smiled happily and began telling her about the time Cedric thought he could climb the whomping willow to illustrate just how stupid boys could be.

Later that day Aziraphale had stormed into the RoR shouting at Crowley to “go and talk to those boys of yours and tell them to apologise”

He had never seen the Slytherin move so fast.

~

June turned out to be their breaking point.

It had started with small touches. Crowley sitting closer to him, cuddling in the RoR. Moving his hand against his when they were paired together in class. Brushing Aziraphale’s hair out of his face when they were studying.

It was Friday and they were once again in the RoR. Crowley was sat across from him on the sofa testing him on Herbology shuffling through Aziraphale’s flashcards as he unwillingly quizzed the other boy.

“I’m bored of this, Angel” Crowley whined chucking the flashcards onto the coffee table beside his glasses. Aziraphale eyed the haphazard pile of flashcards disgruntled and turned his attention back to Crowley when he let out a long drawn out sigh.

“Well what do you suggest we do Crowley?” Aziraphale asked indulgently laughing when Crowley wiggled his eyebrows

“Oh I have a few ideas” he said with a wink. Aziraphale snorted and turned away laughing. When he turned back to look at Crowley the red-head was a lot closer than before. Bright amber eyes boring into Aziraphale’s with an unparalleled intensity.

“In fact” Crowley said reaching up with his hand to cup his face and Aziraphale felt his breath hitch with the movement “I know exactly what I want to do now”

And then his lips crashed into Aziraphale’s, moving against him with an intensity he had never felt before. Aziraphale felt himself lean into the movement, his hand gripping Crowley’s hair lost in the sensation blood pounding in his ears. Some part of Aziraphale recognised that this was a very bad idea but when Crowley lightly bit his lip Aziraphale felt all thoughts leave him as he whimpered. All that mattered was Crowley’s lips on his, his hand in his hair and the heat which permeated every part of him.

Until he realised what he was doing.

Aziraphale pushed Crowley away scrambling back down the sofa panting heavily. Aziraphale was sure that you could place the mirror of erised and a boggart in front of him and they would both show the same exact damning image. The image that was lying on the sofa, completely debauched and unfairly hot, giving him bedroom eyes from across the way. Crowley’s lips were swollen, eyes burning bright in the light of the fire and Aziraphale felt himself get carried away by a storm of regret and desire. He stood up and turned away from Crowley to avoid looking at the boy that would be his undoing.

“This-this was a mistake” Aziraphale stuttered out and ignored the way something in Crowley’s eyes shuttered.

“We can’t, we can’t do this” he says ignoring the voice inside of him that treacherously whispers _you can_

“Why can’t we angel?” Crowley speaks desperately having gotten over his initial shock. He stands up walking towards Aziraphale as he speaks

“ We can- we can run away together, after Hogwarts and we can go to hogsmeade together and I can hold your hand in public and I can take you anywhere, _anywhere_ you want to go because we won’t give a damn about our families or- or the press or-

“Crowley you know we can’t” Aziraphale said feeling close to tears

“No I don’t know why we can’t!” Crowley exploded, running a hand through his hair “Am I not enough for you?” he questions grabbing Aziraphale’s hands and he feels his heart break just a little at the overwhelming sadness in Crowley’s tone

“Please just, give me a chance angel, give _us_ a chance Aziraphale” he says so earnestly that it makes his heart stutter. It would be so easy to give in, Aziraphale thinks, so easy to lean up and kiss him, so easy to embrace the fairy tale ending that Crowley imagines for them.

Instead Aziraphale looked away from him, slowly pulling his hands from his grip

“You go too fast for me Crowley” he said brokenly. He pulled his hands away from Crowley’s and it feels like he leaves entire universes in his wake. They were centimetres away from each other yet Aziraphale couldn’t help but think that the space between them had never been so large.

Their fifth year at Hogwarts ended in a ruination of his own making.

Because he had never felt more alone than in that moment where Crowley had walked away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... they kissed?   
> sorry for not updating in a while the other fandoms I write for took over my life but I'm back babes! with angst. Sorry?   
> let me know what you think about that latest chapter!   
> next chapter, the goblet of fire whoO


	11. resident Slytherin is filled with regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's the start of their firth year, Crowley and Aziraphale are still arguing and then Crowley does something monumentally stupid

This summer had perhaps been the worst of Crowley’s life. Every letter he had sent apologising had been returned to him unopened, every time he tried to call on the two way mirror he was ignored. He knew he had acted rashly, knew he might have damaged their friendship beyond repair by acting so brash but surely Aziraphale couldn’t ignore him forever?

Except, Aziraphale was.

When the next school year had started Crowley immediately set out in search of the blonde but he was avoided at every turn. Aziraphale had even stopped coming to the room of requirement and he always surrounded himself by his hufflepuff friends.

He wasn’t even giving Crowley a chance to apologise. And as September dragged its feet into October it was becoming more and more likely that Aziraphale was never going to talk to Crowley ever again. It hurt, it hurt more than he wanted to admit but Crowley was stubborn.

So, really, Crowley only had one actual option.

He would have to make Aziraphale pay attention to him. And he could do that in the only way he knew how; by making completely idiotic decisions.

He put his name in the goblet of fire.

And then, to the surprise of quite literally everyone, Crowley’s name gets pulled out of the Goblet of Fire. Which, on one hand, was a good thing. His plan was a success, there was no way Aziraphale could continue ignoring him now that he was an active participant in a death trap competition. But also, he was an active participant of a death trap competition.

Crowley walked down the aisle- the Slytherins were the only house cheering for him – and nodded at Dumbledore before disappearing into the backroom to stand with the other competitors, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour.

They stand in a horrifically awkward silence for quite some time as they wait for any form of instruction. Crowley could try and attempt some small talk but considering he felt like his heart was his throat he decided against it.

The silence only lasts for a few more minutes however before the door slams open, the other schools headmasters stride in angrily, Snape and McGonagall storming in after and also, inexplicably, Mad Eye Moody. Personally Crowley rather detested the retired auror. He hated the Slytherins and was incredibly prejudiced. That along with being more than a bit insane made for a bad classroom experience. Although the strangest person to walk into the room was without a doubt Harry Potter

“Harry?” Crowley said confused and more than worried at the blatant look of panic on Harry’s face

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone put my name in the Goblet” he barely manages to whisper and Crowley feels sick. Crowley doesn’t even want to be in this competition, never mind Harry.

“Obviously he’s lying” Karkaroff snarls and Crowley has to resist the urge to punch the man. Instead he grabs Harry by the shoulder and pulls the small Gryffindor boy closer to him.

“And obviously you’re wrong” Crowley snaps back “Harry wouldn’t do something like this, and he couldn’t get passed the age line if he tried which means someone, three guesses who, put his name in the goblet to try and kill him” Crowley snarls angrily at the stupid adults.

“Not to worry you or anything Harry” he says to the boy, reigning in his anger and is awarded by a small snort and timid smile.

“Thanks Crowley, really, it’s not like I’ve managed a year without someone trying to kill me yet anyway”

Ah yes, the Sirius Black incident.

He had almost forgotten about that.

The professors don’t really look like they know what to do with themselves, a common occurrence around Crowley really and soon Ludo Bagman interrupts.

“Well then” he exclaims far more cheerfully than what the situation calls for “Looks like we have an extra champion”

The other headmasters look like they want to protest at that but one glare from Crowley over his glasses silences any protests they were planning to make. Bagman goes on to tell them when their first challenge will take place without a single clue over to what the actual challenge is which isn’t helpful in the slightest. Crowley thinks he’ll be regretting this for the end of his life.

At least they made it safer this time round. It’s not like he would actually die or anything.

They leave the room in a subdued silence, the rest of Hogwarts had already returned to their dorms and so it’s just he and Harry wandering through the halls alone.

“Listen Harry, you need anything don’t hesitate to ask me” Crowley says seriously and Harry smiles back at him gratefully.

“Same to you Crowley, although I don’t know what I could do for you”

“You do have a brilliant talent of escaping near death” Crowley quips and Harry responds with a dry ‘thanks’ before they both go their separate ways.

When Crowley returns to the common room all he wants to do is go to sleep, instead he walks into perhaps one of the loudest parties Slytherin has ever hosted.

“Crowley!” Draco hollers seemingly already absolutely plastered judging by the amount of fire whiskey bottles that litter the common room. He’s going to regret drinking that in the morning but Crowley isn’t going to be the one to tell him that.

“Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!” someone starts chanting and then the quidditch team come and hoist Crowley up onto their shoulders.

Crowley should go to sleep, he has an essay due in tomorrow that he never bothered to finish and now he has a death tournament to prepare for.

But instead he lets himself get swept up in the festivities.

The hangover next morning doesn’t even make him regret it.

~

The next day he waits for Aziraphale to approach him. And he waits for Aziraphale the day after that, and the day after that until it becomes abundantly clear that Aziraphale simply doesn’t care.

Crowley willingly signed his own death sentence so Angel would talk to him and yet Aziraphale still continues to ignore his very existence. It’s like Aziraphale has decided, after six years of friendship that Crowley is simply not worth it anymore.

Crowley gave everything that he was to Aziraphale.

And even that wasn’t enough.

Crowley tried to keep busy instead of focusing on the gaping hole Aziraphale had left in his life, he didn’t succeed that much but he did get a lot done. He started reading about past triwizard tournaments to try and prepare for the first task. He had dragged Ron aside when he found out he was ignoring Harry and lectured the red head until he realised he had been an absolute moron and by the next day Ron and Harry were back to their usual dynamic duo.

Draco happily showed off all the badges he had made ‘Support Crowley! The real Hogwarts champion’ Crowley had felt a bit bad about it at first thinking about Harry but he had walked into the hall the next day to find Harry also wearing one of the badges, not even batting an eye as it changed too ‘Potter Stinks’

He didn’t think about Aziraphale.

He didn’t.

He did.

He was in transfiguration when the tournament was brought up again, Creevey burst through the doors, a confused and muddled Harry standing behind him as he said that Crowley had been summoned for the wand weighing ceremony.

Crowley had not been informed of a wand weighing ceremony but Mconagall didn’t even bat an eye so Crowley presumed it was just him who had been left out of the loop. He walked out of the classroom after shoving his books back into his bag and completely missed the worried look Aziraphale shot him after he had left.

“Ugh” Crowley groans as they walk down the corridor and Harry snorts in response.

“You have no excuse, you signed up for the willingly” Harry said as Creevey led them up another flight of stairs.

“Didn’t think I’d get bloody picked though did I?” Crowley drawls in response dragging a hand through his hair, he had cut it over summer and it now only came to the nape of his neck. Harry doesn’t even respond to him and before they know it Creevey is shoving them into a tiny room. There are five chairs set out and the other champions are already stood there in tense silence.

“Ah there they are!” Bagman exclaims ushering them towards the chairs “We can start the wand weighing ceremony now- oh don’t worry about Rita” Bagman says noticing Crowley eyeing the vapid journalist.

“She’s just doing a small piece on the tournament for the prophet”

Crowley has decided he really despises Ludo Bagman. He wonders if the man is this peppy when he’s dealing with the goblins. Everyone knew about Bagman’s gambling problem and Crowley couldn’t wait to throw it into the man’s stupid face.

“Maybe not that small” said Rita Skeeter and Crowley subtly positions himself in front of Harry. He had read enough of her articles to know he never wanted to be in one.

“Shall we start with the youngest?” she says keeping her beady eyes on Harry and Crowley interjects before the Gryffindor lands himself into trouble.

“Harry doesn’t consent to an interview and as such if there is one quote from him in the article he will have you sued for libel” Crowley interjects. Skeeter pauses to glare at Crowley as the other two champions blatantly listen in.

“Not even one word Harry?” Skeeter simpers and Crowley stumbles back when Harry nudges him out of the way.

“Yeah actually, Crowley is the Real Hogwarts Champion, not me” Harry says strongly and Crowley feels his heart warm when he hears Harry’s vehenemant declaration.

Aziraphale might still be ignoring him, but at least he still has his friends.

~

It’s a week before the first task when out of nowhere Crowley gets yanked into a broom cupboard. He instantly goes reaching for his wand but halts when he sees Harry’s startling green eyes blinking up at him owlishly.

“You shouldn’t just kidnap people Harry”

Harry looks like he has a thousand retorts to that but instead shakes his head, looking up at Crowley seriously.

“The first task, I know what it is”

“Of course you do”

“Its dragons, you have to get past a dragon”

Any jokes Crowley was going to say were knocked out of him.

“Fuck”

Harry dashes off to his lesson and Crowley stumbles through the rest of his day in a daze. Dragons.

Crowley can’t speak Dragon, he can speak mermish thanks to living under the lake all these years, but he can’t speak dragon. Crowley doesn’t know anything that can help with dragons, they’re not exactly an animal you study in care of magical creatures. Hagrid might know, there was that situation in first years after all.

Crowley goes to the Room Of Requirement, half hoping for help, half hoping for Aziraphale. He’s let down on both fronts. He doesn’t want to fight the dragon like most of the beastly conjured books suggest, he just wants to sneak past it.

Surprisingly it’s not the many books that the room conjures that helps him come up with a plan. Instead it’s the sweater that Aziraphale had knitted for his snake form last Christmas.

He was an idiot for not thinking of it soon really.

The next morning, a few days before the first task, Crowley dashes into Snape’s office. The dour man is sat at his desk marking some truly horrible looking essays when Crowley dashes into the room.

“Hello professor” he chirps “mind if I borrow your floo?”

“Mr Crowley-

“I thought we were past all that ‘Mr’ business, sir” Crowley quips back and enjoys the resigned look that washes over Snape’s face.

“Why do you need to use the floo?” he drawls sending him a withering glance

“It’s probably best you don’t know professor, plausible deniability and all that”

Snape doesn’t respond to him right away but Crowley isn’t worried. He knows professor Sprout would let him use the fireplace in her office in a heartbeat, he just likes annoying the potions professor.

“Fine”

Crowley doesn’t give Snape enough time to change his mind before he’s barrelling through the office, grabbing a handful of floo powder as he goes.

By the end of the day Crowley is a fully registered animagus.

~

The morning of the first task arrives and Crowley wants to curl up and die in a hole. His fellow Slytherins either don’t know or don’t care about Crowley’s reluctance because they carry him into the great hall in a tide of enthusiasm. Crowley barely manages to choke down some toast before he’s being ushered down to the champion’s tent.

There he is joined by the other champions, grim faced and determined. Determined to win or just determined to survive Crowley honestly can’t tell. They are told to pick a dragon out of the bag and Crowley draws the Swedish short snout, he’s going first. He shares a commiserating look with Harry who, in a famous bout of Potter Luck, drew the most vicious look dragon out of the bag.

Just before Crowley steps into the arena the panic he had been feeling all morning fades away from him. He feels calm and steady, overwhelmed with clarity.

He can do this.

The second he steps into the arena cheers swell up to meet him. The dragon is sat in front of its nest, guarding its eggs. It’s a giant thing, the green scales glimmering in the afternoon light as it’s burning amber eyes scan the area.

He ducks behind a rock before the dragon can spot him, and focusing intently transfigures one of the boulders into a dog to distract the dragon. It still looks vaguely rock like, and the tail doesn’t move like it should but at least it does the job. Taking a deep breath to centre himself Crowley then shifts into his animagus form.

The world around him grows as he shrinks, and he takes a few moments to adjust to the differences of his snake form, namely the not having legs difference, before he slowly slithers across the arena. The dragon is still very much watching the rock-dog intently and didn’t notice Crowley as he slithered into the nest, blending in with the branches.

It’s when he gets to the golden egg he realises he hasn’t really thought this through. He doesn’t even have opposable thumbs. Checking that the dragon is still distracted Crowley nudges the fake egg forward with his head and watches as it topples over and out the nest.

He’s not the only one who notices it.

The whole crowd watch in abated silence as the dragon screeches at the sight of one of her eggs on the rocky ground. Except when the dragon moves forward to inspect it she rears back angrily, finally discovering that the golden egg was nothing but an imposter.

Snorting angrily Crowley watches as the dragon brings down its heavy spiked tail and bats the golden egg to the other side of the arena before returning to guard her nest.

Crowley decided he would give offerings to Lady Luck for the rest of his bloody life after this.

Slithering out of the nest he traverses the arena quickly, weaving in and out of rocks so he doesn’t get spotted by the dragon. Eventually he reaches the golden egg and transforms swiftly. Taking a moment to stretch his legs Crowley reaches down and grabs the egg, hoisting it into the air.

It was a rather anticlimactic victory but at least he was alive.

And most importantly, Aziraphale was waiting for him in the champion’s tent when he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! with a very short chapter but still, other fandoms I write for kind of took over my life but I promise this fic hasn't been abandoned! it's just gonna be a bit,, slower  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if I have any readers in Amercia I hope your safe in these scary times
> 
> and happy pride guys!


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